I Can Talk You Safely To The Ground
by EmoKidSid
Summary: Vincent unwillingly puts his life back together with help from the usual gang. Mostly Vin&Cid centric. Includes some Reno & some Reeve. Also includes rape, homo&hetero scenes, underage sex....Read my disclaimer esque thingy inside, plx.
1. Chapter 1

Howdy. (Yeah. That's right. I said "Howdy.")

I began writing this story after coming home from seeing Halloween. (Side note: I seem to be one of just a few who fucking loved this movie. After having seen Rob Zombie's first two films several times, I knew Halloween would not disappoint.)

So Halloween was deliciously violent, and it put me in a deliciously violent mood. And although the deliciously violent scenes seem to be dwindling as I keep writing more, this story DOES/WILL contain the following:

1) Delicious Violence.  
2) Slight Blood Fetishes.  
3) Underage Sex. (THIS INCLUDES: Underage Boy On Underage Girl Rape (Gasp! A hetero scene!), Mentions Of Overage Man On Underage Boy Rape, Underage Boy On Underage Boy Consensual Sex.)  
4) Mentions Of Child Abuse.  
5) Recollections Of A Suicide.  
6) Angst. Lots & Lots Of Angst. I don't think it would be my writing without boatloads of angst.

I hereby admittedly state that I know hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want _any_ complaints about _anything_ that I've made sure to mention above.

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(Cid)

There's a new kid in my seat. That seat in the back left corner. Yeah, the one there next to the wall. That's _my_ desk. But...I guess I'll just take the chair next to him. I'll just leave the issue alone for now because he doesn't look very good.

Wait, no! I don't mean it like _that_. From what I can see, he may very well be very attractive. But I can't quite see his face since he's hiding it behind his hands, fingers spread apart so he can see through.

_That's_ why he doesn't look good, cos he looks scared to death.

"Good morning, class." Our teacher sets his books and whatnot on his desk up front. "As you can see, we have a new student today. Vincent, would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?" All heads turn to the corner and look at Vincent, who quickly shakes his head.

"Are you sure?" the teacher asks, but Vincent quickly nods. "Well that's alright then," the teacher says. "We'll have plenty of chances to get to know you once you get settled in. Now, is there anyone who'd like to volunteer to help Vincent around school?"

No one speaks up.

Aw, come on. Do I really have to do this? Dammit. Seems like I do.

So I raise my hand.

"Ah, Cid! Thank you!" the teacher seems relieved. "Vincent, you just ask Cid there if you have any questions or anything, okay?" He goes from there, straight into the first lesson.

I look over to the new kid and try to look...I dunno...welcoming? Friendly? He just closes his fingers together so he can't see anymore.

Yuffie, sitting to my right, immediately hands me a note: _"That was really nice of u, but he's a little creepy, don't u think?"_

I groan internally and write her a response: _"I find it sad that you take the time to draw hearts or smiley faces over every i, but you can't take the time to spell out y-o-u. D:"_

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(Vincent)

I do _not_ want to be here. I don't like it here. I don't feel safe here. Fuck, I don't feel safe anywhere, but this place certainly doesn't help my problems. I don't want anyone to get to know me and I don't need anyone to help me around school. I'm not helpless; I can fend for myself perfectly fine. What I _do_ need is to be asleep, and to be alone.

Just...alone. With no one to put me on the spot like that, the damn bastard.

All alone. No rooms full of other kids staring at me. Waiting. What the hell do they expect from me? I know they can tell something's wrong with me. I can't hide it no matter how hard I try.

By the time the teacher started the lecture, I had already decided I wasn't going to be able to pay attention to him. I'm going to just try and think of things. Whatever comes to mind that I like the best. I think I know what it's going to be.

Sure enough, a familiar scene pops into my head. It changes around a lot, but I work to perfect this scene constantly.

He's trapped now. The fiend, the Devil himself, the monster that started my whole nightmare. I've got him now, and he'll never be able to get away from me. I watch myself grab on to his filthy hair and jerk hard. It doesn't seem to me like that hurt enough, so I do it again, harder, holding his head back. He lets out a strangled cry once he sees the knife in my other hand. He struggles uselessly to get free. When he moves around like that, it only makes the ropes dig further into his skin.

I don't want to waste my time with this today. I straddle his lap and, still leaning his head back, I make one quick slash to his throat with my knife. His body jerks underneath me as blood starts gushing from the wound. He tries to cry out, he coughs, he chokes, and warm blood spatters onto my chest. I can't stop myself from pressing against him, that one action could very likely make me come...

Oh. Goddammit.

I remember that I'm at school and not in the comfort of my Murder Room. Death Room. Knifing Place. I don't know. It doesn't have a name yet, but I like it in there.

I'm breathing quickly and my heart is beating so fast. At least my hands are in the same place I had left them. I hate getting so lost in my head and realizing that the things I'm imagining are so completely far from what's actually going on around me. Except for the fact that I have an erection. That was kind enough to stay with me.

My fingers part and my eyes open and quickly find the clock. 9:30. That's _it_? I suppress the urge to dig my fingernails into my face and I begin to devise a plan to get out of here.

------------------------------------

(Cid)

So Vincent is probably just having a bad day. It happens to the best of us. First day at a new school, a little socially anxious maybe... Well, I can certainly understand how that wouldn't be easy for most people. And the pressure on teens to fit with the in crowds these days, blah blah, social stigmas, something or other... Whatever. I've had my friends since kindergarten. Don't really need to care about anyone else.

Back to the point. Vincent's just having an off day. But now it's lunchtime, so we'll be able to talk now and maybe get him to cheer up a bit.

I find him sitting by himself - not surprisingly - down in the cafeteria. He's sitting in a chair staring at his lunch sack and his lunch sack is sitting on the table staring back at him.

"Mind if I sit?" I ask. He doesn't answer me though. He doesn't look at me either. He doesn't even move. So I sit across from him anyway and start to check out what I had packed for lunch. "Hm. You like turkey?" Maybe he'll be willing to trade sammiches with me.

Or...maybe not. I guess he'll just keep on being silent.

Yuffie, Tifa, Aeris, and Cloud (but not Reno. Reno has detention.) join us, but Vincent never says a word, never moves an inch, no matter what anyone says to him. Eventually, we just sort of stop trying.

After quite a while, Vincent finally does something. He grabs his lunch sack, his fingers tearing through the thin paper, and throws it to the floor. He stands up, takes his book bag, and leaves the cafeteria.

Aeris and Tifa seem mildly concerned.

Yuffie looks terrified.

Cloud tries _really_ hard not to laugh.

And I'm left feeling very confused.

------------------------------------

_TBC, yo!_


	2. Chapter 2

Although the deliciously violent scenes seem to be dwindling as I keep writing more, this story DOES/WILL contain the following:

1) Delicious Violence.  
2) Slight Blood Fetishes.  
3) Underage Sex. (THIS INCLUDES: Underage Boy On Underage Girl Rape (Gasp! A hetero scene!), Mentions Of Overage Man On Underage Boy Rape, Underage Boy On Underage Boy Consensual Sex.)  
4) Mentions Of Child Abuse.  
5)Recollections Of A Suicide.  
6) Angst. Lots & Lots Of Angst. I don't think it would be my writing without boatloads of angst.

I hereby admittedly state that I know hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want _any_ complaints about _anything_ that I've made sure to mention above.

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

I can't go back to the house now. If I did, I would have to explain to the Williams family just why I'm done with school so early. I couldn't tell a lie that could be so easily disproved. I couldn't tell the truth either. There was no real reason for leaving school in the middle of the day; I just _had_ to do it. They would never understand.

I feel a little better now that I'm outside of, and far away from, the school building.

There's a park up ahead, so I figure I'll go see if there's anything of interest there.

Nope. There's nothing really, but it's quiet and I seem to be alone, so I'll stay here for a while and replay my scene. I won't have to hold back this time. With nobody else around, I can let myself go...

----

The sun is going down when I wake up. I'm still in the park and the ground I'm sitting on suddenly isn't as comfortable as it was when I first sat down.

My attention is drawn to the sound of leaves crunching under feet nearby. I see a man coming by down the sidewalk. My heart starts to pound as a swift adrenaline rush causes me to clumsily fumble to gather my backpack and stand up.

"He won't hurt me," I whisper to myself, trying to walk steadily, "He won't hurt me," I'll just draw more attention to myself if I run, "He won't hurt me, he won't hurt me," but a voice in my head says he _might_ hurt me, he _could_ hurt me, what if he _does_ want to hurt me?"

I don't care anymore; I have to run. I couldn't _not_ run if I wanted to. But I've done it now. He's noticed me. I try not to look, but I do, and he glances over at me.

He was just wondering why I was running. He probably just gave me a weird look.

Yeah, a weird look that said "Mmm, a tasty little boy."

Stop being so paranoid. He wasn't thinking that.

But what if he _was_ thinking that? What if he's decided to follow me?

Where the hell do I live? I may be lost and it's almost dark now. Haven't even been in that house for a week. I don't even know if I'm going in the correct general direction.

I can't run much further. My legs have given about all they're going to give. My lungs are going to burst and my throat burns.

But I can't stop running, unless I want to be abducted. He's on my trail, he knows I'm scared, and if I pause for even a moment, he could attack.

The sun is gone and the streetlights are flickering on.

Please, _please_, let this be the right street. I think it just might be. ...432...434...436! Yes! With the green trim and the rose bushes. This looks about right.

I make it to the front door, but my body's not functioning well enough to get through it. My left hand says to pound incessantly on the door. My right hand says to shakily try the door knob. My legs say _stop_, for the love of God. My mind says fuck you, keep running. My common sense is too rattled to tell my mind that I very well can't literally run _through_ a door. My eyes don't care about any of this and send never ending streams of tears which make everything all blurry.

The door opens, thank God, the door opens. There's some sort of noise that sounds something like "We were worried sick. Where have you been?" but I can't worry about that. I push through the door and head for the stairs. I can't stop yet; I'm not safe.

Not safe until I'm in my room. Not safe until I make sure all the bedroom windows are locked. Better hide in the closet too, just to be extra cautious. It's pitch black in the closet. I can't be seen in the dark, so I think I might be alright in here.

My head is throbbing from the lack of oxygen. I'm still gasping frantically for air. But I think I may be able to stop crying soon.

I hear a knock, and Mrs. Williams calling my name. I can't answer, or maybe I don't bother to try. My throat feels like it's been run ragged, and even my voice is too tired and too frightened right now.

She comes into the bedroom. I can see a faint glow coming through underneath the closet door, and I desperately try to move away from it.

"Vincent? Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" Mrs. Williams knocks on the closet door.

Just leave me alone. I need to hide and I need to be _alone_. Why can't my wordless sobs convey this??

"Come on. You're not in trouble. Why don't you come on out now, Vincent?" she asks. And she has a cruel advantage. One I never even considered. The light switch is _outside_ of the closet. I don't realize this until the light above me turns on. The dark, safe, little room now a bright, open field, where my every move can be watched.

I'm starving; I haven't eaten anything all day. I might be hyperventilating, but I can't quite wrap my brain around that one. I am exhausted, inside and out; there is not a single part of me that isn't completely scared and overwhelmed. My whole body is shaking for probably more than one of these reasons. The light betrayed me, the darkness abandoned me. I can be seen, I've been found, and I'm vulnerable in this state. The door opens.

I am far from safe or sane anymore, and I am screaming, trying to hide myself, but the walls won't take me; my hands can cover no more than my face. Screaming still, as I feel other hands try to take hold of me. I don't want to be held down. There has to be another choice, another way to handle this. If I would have been left alone in the beginning, this wouldn't be happening.

I'm fighting as hard as my body will allow. I can't possibly imagine there is any more energy left in me, but something isn't letting me go down without a fight.

The noises and voices in the room turn into one heavy sound. I can't see anymore; just random swirls of colour and mostly black. I don't even know if my eyes are open or closed. Maybe they're just the first to give up. I try to tell myself to calm down, but nothing in me will listen. I don't seem to have any power over this situation, so I retract into myself. My mind is slowing down, it will give up completely very soon, but I don't think my body is going to. I think I've lost control and I don't know what it is that's taken over.

----

Everything is sore. It hurts a little to stretch and move, and I can't figure out why. It feels like there's a sort of blank space in my mental timeline. That usually doesn't mean anything good. Maybe I was actually hit with a truck last night. If someone were to tell me that right now, I would believe it.

The first order of business is to sit up. For some reason, I fell asleep in my jacket. I mess with the zipper for several minutes so I can take it off and discover dry semen stains on my shirt. When the hell did I do that?

Oh well. I can't worry about that too much this morning. I tug the shirt off and dig out a clean one. I think I manage to put it on backwards, but I don't think I have the strength to fix it. There are more important matters at hand, like making it to the bathroom.

There's a clock in the bathroom. That's a potentially handy idea, but it's telling me that it's almost 2 in the afternoon. I am either extremely late, or the clock is extremely wrong. Doesn't school start at some ungodly hour, like 8? Surely someone would have come to wake me up if I was so late.

I stagger down the hallway to Philip's room. Mr. and Mrs. Williams adopted him a few years ago. He's four or five years younger than me and I'm not allowed to be alone with him. He's not in his room and neither is his backpack. Also, _his_ clock said it was almost 2.

Fuck! I'm going to get my head smashed in!

I need to get ready for school. I want to run back to my room, but I just don't have the will to run. As fast as I possibly can, I retrieve my school things, and I'm almost sure my shoes are on the wrong feet. I'm still hungry and lightheaded, but there's no time to eat right now.

"We called you in sick today, Vincent." Rushing through the house, I didn't even notice Mrs. Williams sitting in the living room, visiting with one of my regular therapists. I walk hesitantly towards them. Something happened last night, and I'm scared to find out what it was. So I don't ask.

One of them asks, "Are you feeling better today?"

Who cares?

"The school told us you ran off yesterday. Did somebody do something to make you angry?"

No, nothing I can specifically point out. I was just angry at everyone. Of course, I don't actually say this.

"Where did you go after you left school?"

I... don't know. The last thing I think I remember is sitting miserable at the lunch table. I keep my eyes on the floor.

The doctor suggests that Mrs. Williams leaves the room, so maybe I'd be more willing to talk. Not likely, but...maybe a little bit. The question is repeated once Mrs. Williams is gone. I remain silent; I have no answer.

Where _had_ I been? Obviously someplace where I could dirty up my shirt in relative privacy.

"Did anyone try to hurt you? Something must have scared you pretty badly." And then, probably noticing my look of sheer confusion, she asks, "Do you remember what happened after you came back to the house last night?"

She tells me they think I had a panic attack. I had come back terrified and screaming and crying and no one knew why. Whatever. I don't care about that. I want to know why _I_ don't know why. Why _I_ can't remember what the hell happened to me. Nobody ever has any answers for me. My head feels like it's about to explode and it's about enough to make me wanna scream again.

------------------------------------

_TBC, yo!_


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter has the underage boy on underage girl hetero scene. I tried to tone it down a bit from what it was, but I thought I should let you guys know it's a'comin' up, just in case.

Although the deliciously violent scenes seem to be dwindling as I keep writing more, this story DOES/WILL contain the following:

1) Delicious Violence.  
2) Slight Blood Fetishes.  
3) Underage Sex. (THIS INCLUDES: Underage Boy On Underage Girl Rape (Gasp! A hetero scene!), Mentions Of Overage Man On Underage Boy Rape, Underage Boy On Underage Boy Consensual Sex.)  
4) Mentions Of Child Abuse.  
5)Recollections Of A Suicide.  
6) Angst. Lots & Lots Of Angst. I don't think it would be my writing without boatloads of angst.

I hereby admittedly state that I know hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want _any_ complaints about _anything_ that I've made sure to mention above.

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

A couple weeks and several panic fits later, I was moved to the Larcom house last night. Mr. and Mrs. Williams said they were sorry, but they just couldn't handle me like they hoped they could. Moving is so emotionally exhaustive. Even with what little I actually own, I'm always very tired afterwards. I think I might be asleep standing up.

"Hey you!" an unfamiliar voice comes from behind me. I don't acknowledge it. "You went to South last semester, didn't you?"

Yes, I did. Then they got rid of me. Apparently, I caused too many disturbances.

The speaker, and his small group of friends, step around in front of me. They're not from my class, but they're obviously a little older. Ninth grade, maybe. Probably have a free period. "Aren't you gonna answer me?"

Ah...nope.

"Yeah, man, I have a friend who goes to South. And _his_ friend said you're the one who tried to fuck his little brother."

Oh. That. Heh. Well...

"Aw, come on, yo. Quit pickin' on him," Reno says. This is the first time since I've been at this school that Reno hasn't had detention and has been able to come to recess.

"Shut up, bitch. That freak tried to fuck a little kid, didn'tcha?" the older boy shoves me and I stumble backwards. "I heard about all the sick shit you threatened to do to his cat if he told."

I said I'd kill it in front of him, and then with its blood I'd--

"Come _on_, yo. It isn't funny," Reno's ready to brawl.

"No, it's _not_ funny. You're a sick, twisted kid, dude. What the hell is wrong with you?"

It was only a natural curiosity. I had to know why it was so good. I'd always been the one who had to be on the bottom, and I _hated_ it. It hurt like hell. There was obviously something good in it all for whoever was on top. Otherwise, why would I have been put through all of that? I _had_ to understand. And there was a kid who was smaller and younger than me, so I just assumed I could do whatever I wanted with him.

In a series of very unorganized actions, I manage to get this older boy lying flat on the ground, a knee in his ribs, a hand on his face, and his hand between my teeth. Reno and Cid manage to drag me off of the boy, but not before I get a taste of his blood.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting in the principal's office, waiting for Mrs. Larcom to come pick me up. That's fine; I didn't want to be at school anyways.

----

Mr. Larcom is none too happy with me this evening. He's yelling things like "Pay attention, you autistic brat," and "Don't you think you might deserve a little bullying after threatening and seriously inappropriately touching a child?"

First of all, I'm not autistic. This isn't the first time that's been brought up, but I'm just not comfortable with direct eye contact, or responding to ridiculous questions.

Second, you have to realize, this "child" was like two years younger than me. Not even. A year and a half. I could hardly call that much of an age difference. And for the record, as far as I know, his cat's body parts are still intact.

However, I don't think these are the answers Mr. Larcom is looking for, so my mouth stays shut and my eyes stay glued to the carpet.

"What if the school kicks you out? That'll be the second time, right? What are you going to do then?"

They won't, yes, and I don't know.

"Answer me!" he demands. He is much too close to me.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard, and growl, "Get away from me." He's pissing me off with his stupid questions and his goddamn expectations of getting answers and teaching lessons by shoving his shouting face at my own.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do, boy. Answer me!"

I follow through with my immediate impulse to scratch his face and get it the fuck away from mine.

He keeps yelling things, and he grabs me, his fingers are digging into my shoulders. I'm struggling to get free. We're both shouting and making each other angrier. I tell him I'm going to fucking kill him. He says I won't if he kills me first, and tells me to shut the fuck up. The blunt collision of his fist to my face silences us both. After a second, he lets hold of me.

I thought I was supposed to be safe now with these families, but that was all just another lie, wasn't it? Big surprise, that one.

I run to my room to get my bag and find my social worker's telephone number.

Not twenty four hours after moving to this house, I am moved to another one.

-----------------------------------------------

(Cid)

I'm a little surprised to see Vincent at school today. I thought maybe he'd skip class, and I knew the possibility of suspension was pretty high. I'm glad he's here though.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder if he lacks the ability to speak. He hasn't spoken a single word to me in the two months he's been here. I don't think he's ever said anything to anyone at all. I'd really like for him to talk. But I _am_ used to him now. He always follows me around; doesn't stay too close, but not too far either. I kind of like it.

So yes, I'm glad Vincent's here today, but he seems worse than normal. He's been sitting at my-- erm... _his_ desk all day with his head bowed down, his hair hanging in his face, and his hands folded on the table. Hasn't even taken out a notebook or a pencil and the day's almost half over.

I ask Vincent if he's okay on our way to lunch. I don't expect him to answer, and he doesn't; just walks slightly behind me with his head hung low. Nobody says anything other than "hi" to him in the cafeteria. He doesn't eat, either. He usually eats a little bit at least.

After school, we walk across the street, but before he goes right and I go left as we usually do, I ask if he wants to come over to my house for a while. He stands silent for a moment, and instead of answering "yes", he simply turns left and starts walking.

----

Vincent and I sit in a semi-awkward silence in my room. He still didn't want anything to eat. Or rather, he just stood there, looking at the floor, when I offered a snack. I could only assume that meant "no".

I'm watching him without trying to look like I'm watching him. I don't have a head full of long dark hair, like he does, to hide behind. His face is all shadows and I wonder if he can even see.

I move to sit next to him, as usual, not expecting a reaction. "Vincent, I'm kinda worried about you." I reach over because I want to get the hair out of his face. I've barely gotten a good look at him in two months. He immediately grabs my wrist.

"Don't touch me." It's low and threatening and it's not the first sentence I'd hoped to hear out of him, but it's far better than silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." I apologize, but he's still holding on to my wrist. "Hey, Vincent, that kinda hurts a little," I laugh nervously and his grip tightens slightly. My heart jumps as he raises his head. His eyes meet mine in brief flashes of bright red before the lids close back over them and he finally releases my hand.

I wish for a moment that we weren't alone in the house, but my apprehensions are suddenly forgotten, because I finally see what he's been hiding all day. "What happened to you? That kid yesterday. Did he...? No way. He didn't get a punch in," I try to push his hair back so I can better see the darkened bruise that's framing his left eye.

We're back to silence now. Vincent turns his head and lets his hair fall in his face again. No, I can't just leave it at that. "Who hit you?" I sit back and try to keep my hands to myself.

No answer.

"Dad?" But he shakes his head no.

"Brother?" No.

"Uh...sister?" Nope.

"Your mum?" Not that either.

"Did you do it to yourself?" Wrong again.

"Maybe, Vincent, maybe we need to tell somebody about this."

"It's fixed now," is all he tells me, in a much softer, much less angry voice. In fact he doesn't sound angry at all. I want very badly to believe him.

A long time passes, and I don't know what to do. "You shouldn't hide your face like that," I tell him quietly. "I've never seen eyes like yours before. They're... they're very pretty."

"I gotta go," he chokes out and hurries out of the room.

"Wait, Vincent! Your backpack!" I try to catch up with him, but he's already out the door before I make it downstairs.

Well...shit. Maybe Cloud was right when he told me I shouldn't call other boys "pretty".

Back in my bedroom - I _know_ I shouldn't, but it's far too tempting - I open Vincent's backpack. I'm not sure what I'm expecting to find. There's a folder with "Do Not Lose This, Vincent Valentine" written in big red letters on the front. Looks like an adult's handwriting. Inside the folder are a bunch of official looking documents, phone numbers for therapists and a social worker, and one paper that says he was moved to 1239 East Prairie Road on yesterday's date.

I'm a little confused, but a little too impatient to read through all the papers. So I set it down carefully and pull out a couple notebooks. One just has school notes and homework in it. The other is much more interesting. It's damn hard. It's not an easy read, but I sit and read every legible word in the entire notebook.

Awful nightmares. Horribly graphic stories of violent sex and so much murder. It seemed that every word had been written with a venomous hate. I try to convince myself that that isn't blood smeared over several pages. It's...something else. Anything. I will never try to touch Vincent again. Not if it will inspire his fear and anger to add more to these pages.

The last page used says "I hate the possibility of being safe with him. I hate him for being nice. It's going to hurt when he stops trying, but it will be a lot easier when he does. He won't be any different, he'll never understand."

I certainly _don't_ understand, because he hasn't tried to give me anything _to_ understand.

The contents of Vincent's bag are replaced and the zipper is pulled shut. I don't think I'm going to sleep very well tonight.

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

I am in no mood to socialize, but they come in anyway. Katy and Lucy, 12 and 8, the two sisters of this particular family. I suppose I'd find their light brown curls adorable if I just wasn't so damn bitter.

The older one, Katy, starts talking before I can escape. "At school, we've been having Family Life class--"

"The fuck is that?" I snap.

Katy crosses her arms. "Well let me finish, if you please."

"Well I don't," I tell her.

But she goes on. "Family Life class. You know, like, learning about boys and girls and how they grow up and stuff."

Wonderful. What the fuck do you want?

"Well, they've shown us drawings and stuff, but never any actual pictures. So I was wondering, and Lucy's interested too, would you show us your...well, can we see what it looks like?" She points to the front of my pants.

Oh wow. I want to laugh _so_ badly. "What would I get for it?"

"Two dollars, seventy three cents, and we'll show you what we look like too," Katy holds out a dollar bill. Lucy holds out a handful of change and nods in agreement.

"This is all _your_ idea. You won't tell on me, will you?" I ask.

"Nope, nobody'll know," Katy declares. Lucy makes a motion like she's zipping her mouth shut. I collect my payment and drop my pants.

They quietly look for a while. "Can I see what it feels like?" Katy asks.

"Yeah." I'm not intimidated by little girls. They don't scare me like other people can. Both of them reach out at the same time. I give them a few minutes for their hot little fingers to explore. "Lemme see yours now." I've seen plenty of porn with lots of naked girls, but I've never actually had one right in front of me to look at.

Lucy is the first to pull her pants down. I give my dick a couple of good tugs and drop to my knees in front of her. I tell her "Stand wider" so I can have better access and spread her soft little lips apart. I imagine she even _tastes_ soft somehow. I gently give her a swift lick.

She gasps and starts to giggle. "That tickles!" she says.

"Do you like it?" I ask.

"Uh-huh," she nods.

I wouldn't have cared if she'd said no, because I want to know if I can make her come. My tongue goes straight back to teasing her. I feel her start to wobble, so I grab on to her ass to steady her.

"No, wait. I think I have to pee. Stop!" she says. Stop? Never. She can go ahead and pee if she wants. In fact, I'd probably end up liking it. But I'm enjoying this too much to stop. She gasps again as her body starts to shake. "Please stop," she begs as she stills. "It's too much, please." I'm pretty sure she's come, so I'll stop now.

Katy has been watching, wide-eyed and intently. "Is it my turn now?" she asks excitedly.

"Yes. Lay down," I instruct, squeezing a drop of precum from my dick and rubbing it around the head. I want to come so badly, but I know it will feel even better if I wait a while longer.

Katy lays on her back and spreads her legs for me, smart girl. She's already wet from watching me with her sister. She comes after only a few minutes, dripping her girly cum, with breathy moans of "Ah! Oh, oh..."

I move up to be face to face with Katy and reach my hand under her shirt, teasing her through her training bra. I've given them more than they'd asked of me; now I want the favour returned. "Wanna fuck?" I ask. It's been a couple of years since I've done this. I'm sure it'll be a lot easier now that I've grown some.

"Will it hurt?" asks Katy.

It won't hurt _me_. Not if I'm the one in charge of it. That's all I care about. "I dunno," I tell her. I don't give her a chance to respond though, just go ahead and push my way into her. It wouldn't bother me in the least if she didn't want to. Someone already had their way with me, and it didn't matter what I wanted. How could it be fair if I wasn't able to have my way with somebody else now?

It feels _really_ good, fucking her as hard as I can; I _so_ want to come, but it's not happening fast enough.

"I want a turn," Lucy insists. That's cool. I'm fine with that. _Very_ fine with it. I like the way her skin feels. It's much softer. And her body's much smaller, too. So I lay on my back and tell Lucy to get on her knees on top of me. I'm still slick from her sister, but there's still a bit of resistance when I help her slide down onto me. "_Fuck_, good girl..." _God_, she's tight. This isn't going to take much longer.

My hands are on her hips, guiding her to bounce up and down. "I'm not big enough," she whines, "It's hurting me."

"I'll make you come again when I'm done," I bargain. "Don't make me stop, baby, you're so good. _So_ good..." The protesting stops, but she gives me a soft, pathetic mewl with every thrust into her. I think I love her.

I think she's going to cry. She bites her bottom lip so she can try to hold the tears back, but it doesn't work. The tears fall and she chokes back a quiet sob. I do, I love this girl.

I watch her sad little face as she makes me come. I love her, and I want her to be my little doll forever.

With a few last thrusts, slow and deep, I'm unwillingly willing to stop fucking her. "Don't cry," I lift her up and pull her forward to kiss her lips and make her rest her head on my chest. I use the words that were used on me. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

She gives me no answer, so I try to snake my hand down underneath her. "How about I make you come again? I can kiss it all better." But she tells me she doesn't want it; she's too sore down there. So I just hold her tightly as another sob shakes through her. I'll play nice now. I'll smile and comfort her and wipe the tears from her sweet face and make her trust me once more so we can do this all over again tomorrow.

-----------------------------------------------

(Cid)

"Here, Vincent, you left your backpack at my house yesterday," I set it on the floor next to his desk, but he doesn't seem to care. "Are you doin' alright today?" I can't let myself come off as nervous and I can't let anything I read last night slip out. But I want to talk about it! I want to know more about him.

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry. About what I said yesterday. I shouldn't'a said it." Beautifully done, Cid. "I mean, it's true though. I meant what I said, but I didn't want to freak you out or anything, and I'm really sorry." Okay, a decent attempt to save yourself. "You don't have to say anything, but could you lemme know whether or not you forgive me? Either way is fine, but I need to know how bad I fucked up."

So I wait. For anything at all. And it comes! So quietly, but I can hear it. "It's alright, Cid."

He talks to me again! And it seems he only speaks in threes. But that's okay, because he actually _said_ something.

----

"Lemme see it!" Cloud says as he grins stupidly at Vincent. I kick Cloud, and I kick him hard. The idiot wasn't supposed to let on that I told him about Vincent's black eye. "Ow! Cid, don't kick me!"

I could be mistaken, but I _think_ there might be the _slightest_ hint of something vaguely resembling a smile on Vincent's face. So I do it again.

"OW! CID! Stop kicking me! I'm sorry!" Cloud tries to scoot away from me. I look over to see if I have Vincent's approval. Sure enough, he's laughing quietly, which makes me wanna laugh too.

"What did you want to see?" Aeris asks.

Cloud responds without thinking. "Vincent got a black eye the other OW! CID!"

"Ooh! Lemme see!" Reno reaches across the table, presumably to get Vincent's hair out of his face.

"Don't!" I swat his hand away. "Reno, just leave him alone. Poor guy's got enough trouble gettin' black eyes from ninth grade jackasses. He doesn't need you all gawkin' at him."

"Alright, man, sorry," Reno sits back down. "But wait, yo. That kid didn't punch Vince, did he?"

"Yeah he did," I insist.

"You sure, yo? I didn't see it."

"Just cos you didn't see it, doesn't mean it didn't happen. _I_ saw it. What, do you think he actually got into another fight on the way home or something? Seriously, Reno." I hope I'm doing a good enough job covering for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent over there.

"Okay, that's fine, yo. I believe ya. Just don't kick me too," Reno backs off. "Shit! Man, I told you not to kick!"

"I didn't," I say honestly, glancing over at Vincent. Our eyes catch each other for a moment. He looks away from me, but his smile's back.

----

"I'm sorry about what happened with Cloud." I find myself apologizing to Vincent for the second time today. "I promise I didn't tell him any details about it though."

We make it across the street where we go our separate ways before Vincent says it again. "It's alright, Cid."

I'm sure I'm grinning from ear to ear. It's my favourite thing in the world, to hear him say those three words to me.

"Do you wanna come over today? We can try it again," I ask him.

"Doctor," is all he says.

"Well then, how 'bout tomorrow? Or am I just pushing my luck?"

"Tomorrow," he nods, and heads off to the right.

------------------------------------

_Vinny's a mean little bastard..._

_TBC, yo!_


	4. Chapter 4

A little more of the loli raep. Hm...I wonder who Lucy was based on...

Although the deliciously violent scenes seem to be dwindling as I keep writing more, this story DOES/WILL contain the following:  
1) Delicious Violence.  
2) Slight Blood Fetishes.  
3) Underage Sex. (THIS INCLUDES: Underage Boy On Underage Girl Rape (Gasp! A hetero scene!), Mentions Of Overage Man On Underage Boy Rape, Underage Boy On Underage Boy Consensual Sex.)  
4) Mentions Of Child Abuse.  
5)Recollections Of A Suicide.  
6) Angst. Lots & Lots Of Angst. I don't think it would be my writing without boatloads of angst.

I hereby admittedly state that I know hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want _any_ complaints about _anything_ that I've made sure to mention above.

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

The past several weeks have been good. I go to Cid's house everyday after school and he doesn't expect anything from me other than just someone to hang out with. Then I get to come back to my house to spend time with Lucy. She's getting better. She hardly tells me to stop anymore, but she still cries most of the time. But that's alright; it just makes me come harder.

She's putting up a bit of fight this evening though.

"Please, just leave me alone for just tonight," she begs.

"But it's so hard to leave you alone. You make me feel so good," I plead.

"Katy says I should tell on you."

"No, baby doll, you promised you wouldn't tell. Remember?"

"But it hurts! And you've done it almost every day."

I like it when it hurts. But I smile and ask, "If you told on me, who'd be left to give you those special tickle kisses? Who'd make you come and give you love like I do?"

"But..." She's losing. "But it... it hurts..."

"Then why don't you make me come with that sweet little mouth of yours instead?" I kiss her softly. "But first, I'll make you come with mine."

"Well..." she mulls the question over. "Okay, I guess, as long as it won't hurt."

"Good girl..." I lift up her dress and pull her panties off. Just the thought of tasting her sweetness has me hard already. I kiss the inside of her thighs to make her giggle. "And you said you didn't want to do this," I tease.

After she comes, I make her sit on my lap so I can hold her for a bit. "Do you love me?" I ask.

"Yes," she responds accordingly, and my heart beats faster.

"I love you too," I stroke her hair and kiss her red cheeks and her pink lips. "I love you so much, pretty girl. I want you to be my pretty little girl for the rest of our lives."

As if she doesn't know what to say, she just starts to unzip my pants. I stand up to help her. "You're such a good girl," I say as she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue without me having to tell her.

She's got me coming in no time, tears streaming down her cheeks as I'm fucking her mouth. "Swallow it," I instruct, fastening my pants and getting down on my knees so we're the same height. She does, and she coughs, and I lick up the trail of jizz that's dripping down her chin.

"You said it wouldn't hurt," she says.

"No I didn't," I tell her.

"But I couldn't breathe! It was choking me," she tells me.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," I'm not sorry; I'm a liar. "Maybe it won't be so bad next time."

"I don't wanna be your pretty girl anymore," she cries.

"But... But I love you!" I can't believe she's saying these things.

"I don't care! I _hate_ you! I won't ever be your pretty girl ever again!"

No, no, no, no, no... I'm not hearing this, and I'm not letting go of her, no matter how much kicking and screaming she's doing. She can't scream very well with my hands around her throat. I just need to calm her down a bit, so she'll stop trying to get away from me, and she'll realize how silly she's acting. But I'm losing her.

Losing her to her mother's arms, while my own are being held back behind me by her father. I step back to watch this scene unfold. I'm trying very hard, my body struggling and writhing to break free. I may be howling and wailing and demanding, but it's all turned into one solid noise.

Why do I act like this? Like some sort of feral child?

Listen to me, Vincent. I'm sitting over here, fully prepared to calmly explain that Lucy was just being silly and I was just trying to show her that I love her. But I can't explain myself, because I'm watching myself throwing a fit and being wrestled to the ground.

And that, in and of itself, doesn't really make any sense at all, now does it?

----

I'm having a dream in which my heart is being carved out of my chest. The dimly lit room in which I lay is filthy with mold and rust and dirt. The knife is much like the room. The hands using the knife are cold and grey. Their long, skinny fingers have long, dirty fingernails that look as if they could do the knife's job.

The worst part about this whole situation is my mobility. I'm laid out on some sort of table. Although there's nothing holding me down, save the hands on my chest, I can't move. I'm not sure I can even call out for help, but I'm trying to.

The hands leave the knife stuck in my chest and move to grab hold of my shoulders and a faceless voice tells me, "Wake up. Wake up, Vincent."

I really try, but I'm not sure if I'm able to. Because I don't recognize anything around me. The bed, the room, the person standing over me with his hands on my shoulders... I don't know this place.

I _do_ know that my voice is working now, because I hear myself screaming. I'm scared and I'm frustrated. I can't wake up, but this all feels too real. I don't know where I am, there's a huge blank space of time in my memory, and I _know_ I've lost something very important.

------------------------------------

(Reeve)

Oh God. Please stop screaming, Vincent. I was only trying to help. But now this kind of scares me and I don't know how to calm him down.

"I... I'm gonna get my mum, Vincent," I stammer. "Just don't...er, just stay there."

I open the bedroom door and nearly run into my parents. "What happened?" my mum asks.

"I don't know," I tell her quickly. "He was having a bad dream or something and I tried to wake him up and he just started shouting."

My mum turns the light on. Vincent has moved to the floor, in the corner, his hands on his face. He rocks back and forth quickly so his head hits the wall repeatedly. With every impact, he lets out a pained, harsh groan.

My dad kneels next to Vincent and puts his hand to Vincent's forehead to try and stop the hitting. "What are you doing, Vincent?" he asks calmly.

"Go away," Vincent growls through clenched teeth.

"Doesn't that hurt?" my dad asks.

"Go a_way_!" Vincent shrieks, ducking under the restraining hand to ram forcefully into the wall again.

"Stop that, Vincent," my dad grabs Vincent and pulls him away from the wall, holding his arms to his sides. It ends up taking almost two hours for Vincent to quiet down and stop fighting. I want to help, but my parents say there's nothing I can do right now.

Vincent had been very lucid and very calm, albeit angry, when he came to our house earlier this evening. He'd nodded when asked if he knew why he'd been moved. I'd showed him around the house and showed him our bedroom and he'd brushed his teeth and went to bed without a fuss. But now, he's confused and upset and hysterical, and he can't seem to remember anything that's happened in the past several hours.

I was excited from the moment I heard he was coming to live with us. I've always wanted a little brother. I'd hoped we'd decide to adopt him and let him stay. I could give him advice on girls, and help him with homework, and drive him around when I get my license next year. We would be able to confide anything to each other and have the kind of closeness that only brothers can share.

But now, as I watch him deviate from the friendly little boy I first imagined to a violent little monster - and don't get me wrong, I _do_ feel bad for him - but I'm not sure I'm too comfortable even sharing my room with him anymore.

------------------------------------

_TBC, yo!_


	5. Chapter 5

Although the deliciously violent scenes seem to be dwindling as I keep writing more, this story DOES/WILL contain the following:  
1) Delicious Violence.  
2) Slight Blood Fetishes.  
3) Underage Sex. (THIS INCLUDES: Underage Boy On Underage Girl Rape (Gasp! A hetero scene!), Mentions Of Overage Man On Underage Boy Rape, Underage Boy On Underage Boy Consensual Sex.)  
4) Mentions Of Child Abuse.  
5)Recollections Of A Suicide.  
6) Angst. Lots & Lots Of Angst. I don't think it would be my writing without boatloads of angst.

I hereby admittedly state that I know hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want _any_ complaints about _anything_ that I've made sure to mention above.

-----------------------------------------------

(Cid)

Inside recess. The worst of all possible things that could happen at recess time. I would honestly rather be in detention now, than stuck in this Goddamn cafeteria for another thirty minutes. Who cares if it's raining outside? I still want to be out there. I'll risk getting struck by lightning.

I close my eyes and rest against the wall, waiting for the next round of cards to begin so I can get back in the game.

"Cid."

I look, startled, at Vincent. He's sitting on his knees right next to me. Like, _right_ next to me. When did he move so close? "What's up, Vincent?" He's going to talk!

"Cid, I want to tell you."

Any conversation between my friends has stopped, and the cards slap the ground quietly, at a much slower pace.

"Tell me what?" I ask.

"Everything," Vincent says. "But I don't know if I can." I'm not sure if he doesn't realize that our friends can hear him, or if he just doesn't care.

"Well, um, everything about exactly what do you wanna tell me?" Huh?

He thinks for a minute. "Well, that boy I got in a fight with. He wasn't the one who hit me."

"I know, Vince," I nod.

"The family I was staying with. The father was angry with me for getting sent home from school. We started yelling at each other and he just hit me," he explains, speaking softly.

"So what did you mean when you said it was all fixed?" I ask.

"I went straight to call my social worker and she came that night and moved me into another house," he answers. "I hadn't even been there for a whole day, and I had to move again."

"Where were you before?" I inquire.

"They said they couldn't handle me, and asked that I be removed."

"What about after?"

"I was at a house for about a month, but I... I can't talk about that right now."

"And after that?" I press.

"The night before last, I was moved to my current house," he says.

"Are things okay in the new house?" I hope he says yes.

"So far it seems to be alright."

"How come you didn't tell me about all your moving?" I ask. He just shrugs and looks ashamed.

"Hey Vince," Reno calls over. "Y'know, my sister was in the foster care system. That's how we got her. And well, I guess I was too, but I was too young to remember it at all. But it's all cool, man. Not a big deal, yo. Y'know?"

Vincent shrugs again.

Cloud's jaw drops. "Reno? You're adopted?"

"Dude. Cloud. Are you serious, yo?" Reno drops his hand of cards. "Are you _serious_, Cloud? My parents are _black_, Cloud. Look at my skinny white boy ass. For fuck's sake! How many times have you been to my house? How _long_ have you fucking _known_ me, Cloud?"

"I'm sorry, Reno! No, don't kick me!"

----

"Hey now. What's all this?" I grin nervously, sitting up more against the headboard of my bed.

Vincent is on his knees beside me. He lifts his hand to my face and gently strokes his fingers across my jaw line. He's never touched me like this before and I never imagined he was capable of such soft, loving actions.

"Cid, I'm sorry," he tries to keep his eyes focused on mine, but he can't seem to.

"Well, thanks, Vince. But what exactly are you sorry for?" I ask, thoroughly confused as usual.

He lowers his hand to pick up _my_ hand. "When I first came over, and I grabbed your wrist too tight."

"Oh, whatever," I try to laugh it off. "That was _months_ ago. Don't worry. I'd forgotten about that."

"But _I_ didn't, Cid," he goes on. "You said I was hurting you, and I got excited. I like hurting other people. It makes me feel really good. Cos I know _I'm_ the one in control, so there's no chance of them taking control over me. That's what I've been told, anyway, as to why I do it. I don't care what the other person says, or how much they protest. I just don't care and I can't regret it, even though I'm told over and over that what I do is wrong."

He laces his fingers in between mine and squeezes my hand lightly before he continues. "But when it came to you, Cid, something was different. Something felt horribly wrong. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted to hate you like everybody else, but there was something that made me feel like I shouldn't have been trying to hurt you, Cid.

"For the first time, and the only time since, I knew it was wrong, and I knew to stop myself, and for some reason, that really scared me. I was fighting with myself, wanting to push you away, but I really don't think that would make me as happy as I thought it would.

"But then after I ignored you, tried to frighten you, tried you harm you... After all that, Cid, you go and tell me something nice. Maybe even the nicest thing anybody's ever said. I felt so guilty for the first time and I didn't know what to do, so I left."

Wow. After months of just a handful of words, I get an entire _speech_ from him. I almost don't care what he's saying; I just want to keep hearing his voice.

It also occurs to me that I shouldn't be comfortable in this situation. I've become fast friends with a sociopath who could very likely buy pets for the sole purpose of killing them. But I _am_ comfortable with him.

I need to say anything back to him, or I'm afraid he'll run off again. I need to say something pivotal. Something dramatic and life changing that will make him feel alright. I'm searching for The Right Words that, based on every damn movie ever made, should be coming forth freely any second now.

"Ask me something," Vincent says to me, not seeming to notice that I haven't responded to the first issue.

"Like what?" Again, I'm confused.

"Anything at all," he says.

"What happened to your parents?"

Vincent stays silent for a few moments. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't give an answer, but he eventually does.

"When I was still rather small," he begins slowly. "I was getting ready to go to sleep. I got in bed and waited for my mother to come tuck me in. She read my favourite story to me, which was special because I had made her read it to me so many times before, she usually refused when I asked for it. When she finished, she pulled the covers over me, kissed me goodnight, and said 'Sweet dreams, my little Valentine.' She said it every night to keep the nightmares away.

"I tried to sleep, but I just couldn't, and I had a stomachache, even though I hadn't eaten a bunch of junk before bed. So I left my room to get my mother and have her sit with me for a little while longer. I found her in her bedroom and I stood outside the door watching her for a moment before I went in."

Vincent pauses and lets my hand go. "From where I stood, I could see her, but I couldn't quite tell what she was doing. And then a loud, sharp bang filled the house, hurt my ears, and left as quickly as it had come," he hangs his head forward and tugs at his hair. "It scared me so bad..."

He's interrupted by the doorbell ringing, but I'm not going anywhere. We sit quietly until it rings again.

"Cid, the--"

"No, Vincent," I refuse. "That's the least important thing right now."

There's a familiar scraping and scrambling outside the house. A backpack comes through the window, followed by a pair of arms trying to pull themselves up. "Dammit Cid. I know this whole," a voice says between struggling grunts, "Window thing is a - gah! - special privilege for me - shit! - but I'd prefer the front door over--"

"Shut up, Reno," I warn as Reno comes tumbling through the window onto the floor.

"Oh. Shit. You okay, Vince?"

"Shut _up_, Reno," I tell him again and he sits down quietly on the carpet. I focus my attention back to Vincent, who's sniffling and keeping his face hidden behind his hands. "Just ignore him for now, Vincent. Tell me the rest, please?"

He takes a while to get started up again, set back by a few quiet sobs. "I went in her room, and saw her laying on the floor. I saw the gun too, and I knew that's what did it. There was blood, fuck, it was _every_where, and it was all coming from her. But I just sat next to her on the floor and just watched her until my father came home. And then he'd always blamed me for causing my mother to do such a horrible thing."

"Vincent, what happened to your father after that?" I dare to ask.

"I can't, please, not now," Vincent sobs into his hands. He's broken down and fully crying now.

"Okay," I tell him and bring up the courage lay my hand on his shoulder.

"No!" he yells and jerks away.

"Why not?" I ask.

"Don't touch me!" he answers.

"Do you really want me to leave you alone crying and upset and just forget about you, or will you let me try and help the best I can?"

He just keeps sobbing and I feel terrible. "Listen, Vinny, I know you're having a lotta problems right now, but how are you going to come to trust me if you don't give me a chance to prove that I'm not gonna hurt you?

"I think I'm coming to understand _why_ you can't trust anyone, but I'm different, remember? You told me that just a little while ago. So maybe if I can stop you from doing certain things, maybe I can help you to do _other_ things. But we have to try before you decide."

I ignore his protests and hug him, which only makes him cry harder. But he can squirm around all he wants; I won't let him go. "See? This isn't painful at all, right?" I try to keep a calming voice. Vincent very weakly attempts to punch me in the chest. But the impact wouldn't even faze an ant, so he just balls my shirt up in his fist and leans against me almost bonelessly, his head laying on my shoulder. "You're safe with me okay? And with Reno too," I add.

"Oh yeah, definitely!" Reno scurries over to the bed and sits against the headboard next to us. "Me and Cid, we'll help ya out. We'll keep ya safe," he says, leaning against my non-occupied shoulder and reaching over to carefully stroke Vincent's arm in an attempt to help comfort him.

We're quiet after that, save for Vincent's pitiful sounding sobs. He cries until the tears run out and turn into heavy, shuddering sighs, to an occasional whimper, as his breathing evens out and his body stills. His grip on my shirt lessens a bit, and I'm sure he's asleep by now.

"I'm so tired, Reno. And I haven't even done anything," I sigh. The response from Reno is a soft, inattentive moan as his hand slides limply down Vincent's arm. I turn my head to try to get a look at Reno without disturbing either of the two. His eyes are closed, his mouth is open. He's out too.

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

Things feel a little hazy for a moment, but far from disoriented. It doesn't take me long to remember where I am waking up and what had happened, which is always a welcome thing.

I want to move, but maybe I shouldn't. I'm not entirely at ease in this situation. I don't much like others putting their hands on me, but I try to remind myself that these aren't just other people. Cid and Reno have now both been defined as "friend". I know that friends are good to each other, but it's hard to just ignore such strong innate distrust.

Although I'll do my best to ignore it right now. I might actually like this little scene we're in. With Cid's head resting on Reno's head, resting on Cid's shoulder, they look funny that way. They look cute. I can't help but kinda smile a little, thinking that.

I shift slightly to a more comfortable position against Cid. It bothers me that I like the feel of my cheek pressed against the side of his neck. This whole "Let's Hug Vincent" thing is going to take some getting used to. I don't even want to admit to myself that this just might feel good. I won't let myself be convinced of it. Not yet, at least.

Maybe someday though. Maybe I can let myself hope for that. Let myself look forward to some time when I lay like this with Cid and Reno without having to be such an emotional wreck over it.

Maybe.

It's just so different for me.

But Cid's right. I _will_ give it a try. I know he'll stop if I decide I don't like it. I mean... I mean... _when_ I decide don't like it. ...Right?

Well, maybe I won't think so much on it right now. Just give in for a little while longer. Don't know how long I was asleep for, but I'm still tired. Emotions can really take it out of me, and that's always a hard one to go through.

It stunned me, seeing my mother like that; hole in her head (I tried to see inside of it, but couldn't tell what was what), blood staining the carpet, motionless, mangled, and dead. I don't think I knew what emotion I was supposed to be feeling at the time. I hadn't gotten past the stages where the only basic emotions were mad, sad, happy, and bored. There wasn't much that was really in there to convey the feelings of "dear God, my mother just committed suicide right in front of me." So I don't remember feeling anything at all, really. Not until later. And even then, it came slowly. Perhaps I was just too young to understand it all.

It started with simply missing my mum, as if she'd gone on a vacation without me or something. It escalated from there, over a time, to a full blown smack-in-the-face realization that I would never see her again, and she would never _ever_ come to rescue me.

Looking back, I know full well I was not at fault for her death. I know now that she was not quite mentally stable, and that my father treated her terribly, and she simply didn't know how to handle her life and all the depression it brought with it. And I _know_, and I believe entirely, that she loved me. I know all this. Yes, hindsight's 20/20, and all that.

Enough of that, Vincent, or you'll start crying again.

I close my eyes and focus on better things. Something like how warm Reno's hand feels resting on mine. Yeah, something like that.

-----------------------------------------------

(Reeve)

"Reevey!"

"Hey Reno. What are you doing with our Vincent?" I tease as Reno tackles me with a hug.

"We were over at Cid's. Thought I'd walk him home, yo."

"Not your Goddamn Vincent..." Vincent muttered vehemently and stalked up the stairs. The sound of a door slamming comes soon after.

"How's the flu going?" I ask.

"Oh, Rudey? Eh. Well, he's gettin' better. Doctor says he oughtta be comin' back to school in a couple'a days. Mum's got him like, quarantined from me an' Dad an' Elena. Sucks, yo. He sure is one bored son of a bitch."

"Yeah, I bet," I say, noticing that Reno's still hugging me. "Hey Reno? Does Vincent ever talk to you?"

"Barely. He talks to Cid sometimes. Nobody else, really," he answers.

"Oh," I'm a little relieved at that. "I was kinda worried that he just did that with me."

"Nah. Took him _weeks_ to say a whole three words to Cid, an' even then, that was all he got," Reno explains. He quiets his voice a bit. "I feel really bad for him, y'know? Told me an' Cid about his mum today, an' just broke down, man. Just fucken lost it. Cried till he just passed out asleep, yo. It was just fucken sad... I dunno what other kindsa shit he's been through, man, but just what he told us today'd be enough to make me act like he does."

"Yeah, he's had to deal with a lot of other stuff too, but I should let _him_ tell you if he wants to. He doesn't know how to handle himself at all. He's always letting his angriness take over. It sometimes takes him hours to calm down." Reno feels so small. "Do you eat at all?"

"Oh yeah, fucken, all the time, man. Ooh, that reminds me, yo. I'm gonna be late for dinner. Better make like a tree and split." He kisses my cheek with a big "muah!" and runs off down the street.

------------------------------------

_TBC, yo!_

_Hahaha. Rude, Reno, and Elena are brothers and sister. I love that. At first, I wanted Barret to be their dad. Cos that made me laugh. But... then I thought about having their last name be "Turk" so they could be The Turks. But... I love the last name I picked for Reno. And I also love stupid Cloud. And I love big brother Reevey too._

_The last part is just random banter. Needed more Reno : )_


	6. Chapter 6

You know the drill.

And I don't own Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas. If I were Hunter S. Thompson, I probably wouldn't be bothering myself with fan fiction. Also, I might be dead. I can't remember what state Mr. Thompson is in at the moment.

I hereby admittedly state that I knew hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want _any_ complaints about _anything_ that I've made sure to mention above.

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

Cid's busy, Reno's grounded for the rest of the week, I'm not allowed to visit Lucy, and nobody's home, so it's me and myself after school today. I always do enjoy my alone time though. It's always a big source of relief for me. Nobody can expect anything of me if I'm all by myself.

After having a snack, a quick jerk off, and the realization that there's nothing good on tv, I grab Reno's skateboard and decide to give it a go. Forgetful Reno rode it over here and ended up walking home later on without a second thought.

It takes some time to get accustomed to the skate, but I eventually get my balance and can manage going up and down the driveway just fine. Obviously, I'm far from ready for the backside ollies, handrail grindings, and nosegrabs like Reno works on, but I'm kinda getting the hang of things.

Well, I thought I was. But that was before I was skidding face first into the street. And now I'm laying here, hoping a mack truck will speed down the street to end this stinging misery. I groan as I roll over on my back. It hurts now, and it's gonna be a whole different kind of sore hurt in the morning.

Finally, I drag myself to my feet, locate the skateboard, and make the long, laborious trek back into the house. Once inside, I limp as far as I can, but give up at the bottom of the stairs. I sit against the wall and brush some of the dirt and gravel off my arm and the side of my face. My pants are torn at the knee, and I'm bleeding in a few places, but it all stings too much to actually want to get off over it.

Dammit, somebody's coming home. I can hear the front door opening and the rustle of plastic grocery bags. "Hello?" Reeve's mum calls out. "Anybody home?"

I keep quiet and ready myself to make an escape up the stairs, but Mrs. Tuesti catches sight of me. "Oh no!" she gasps and hurries over. "You didn't get in a fight, did you?"

I don't answer her, but glance over to the skateboard. I don't want her attention. But, of course, she's going to give it to me anyway. "Took a bit of a tumble, huh?"

I nod once.

"I'll go get the first aid kit," she turns to leave.

"No," I can take care of myself.

"I think you use your favourite word too much, Vincent," she tells me. "Frankly, I'm a little tired of hearing it. Now I'm getting the first aid kit."

"_No_," I growl again.

"Alright then, Vincent. I _won't_ help you. I'll go hide all the bandaids and medicine, but when your dirty cuts get infected and start to hurt even more, don't come whining to me. I'm going to put the groceries away now. I'll be in the kitchen if you decide you want to be nice," she turns and walks off to the kitchen.

Good. I never said I needed any help anyway. But after a few minutes, I realize I'm pretty hungry, and the dirt isn't going to clean itself off of my scraped up knee, and all I'm doing is sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Unwillingly, I stumbled lamely into the kitchen.

"Did you change your mind, Vincent?"

I shrug in response.

"You'll have to ask nicely. I can't be expected to know what you want by reading your mind."

I withhold the frustrated groan that wants to come out. "Help me clean up," I mutter. She looks at me expectantly. I know what it is she wants. "...Please," I add reluctantly, digging my nails into the palms of my hands.

"Hm. Well, that's a _little_ better," she says as she goes to retrieve the first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom. I take a seat at the kitchen table while I wait.

"How was school today?" Mrs. Tuesti asks as she returns to the kitchen. I shrug again, and she says, "Oh, you don't say? That sounds _so_ interesting!"

Ha, hilarious. She puts some peroxide on a cotton ball and proceeds to clean off my cheek. I instinctively jerk back from her touch and have to remind myself that she's not harming; she's helping.

"I'm sorry if it stings a little," she says nicely. "You got yourself some pretty nasty scrapes there. Were you trying out some tricks from Rudey's little brother?" she laughs lightly and gets some more peroxide to clean my arm. "Honestly, Vincent, I just don't think I can take your incessant chatter anymore," she says when I don't respond. "All you do is talk, talk, talk... I think you're about to make my ears fall off!"

I sigh quietly, turning my arm so she can have access to the scratches. She rolls her eyes sarcastically. "Oh, come on now, Vincent! I'm _only_ trying to get you to lighten up," she smiles. "You can't be miserable all the time forever, you know."

I can be however I damn well want.

Mrs. Tuesti applies a bandaid or two to a couple particularly nasty scrapes and asks me to roll the leg of my pants up over my knee. But jeans aren't the easiest or most flexible of materials to work with, so I have to take them off. "If you want to keep these, I can try to wash the blood off of them," Mrs. Tuesti says. "They might look kind of neat with the rip in them like that." She folds them and sets them on the table. "Ooh, that looks pretty icky. Let's see what we can do about this."

I feel a bit awkward sitting here like this in my boxers, but she doesn't seem to mind. We both wince as she tries to brush away the dirt and gravel that slightly indented into the wound as gently as she possibly can. "Hmm... Come to the sink."

She helps me across the kitchen and tells me to hop up on the counter and try to get my leg over the sink. The faucet is one of the detachable kinds, so it makes this whole process quite a bit easier. The water's a bit chilly, and feels good for a minute, until shit starts to sting again. We make it back to the table and she readies another cotton ball of peroxide.

"This is probably going to hurt some, but I'm not doing it on purpose, alright?" she asks. I nod in response. Again, it does hurt. It makes my fists clench and my body tense up, and she apologizes for the stinging again. "Alright, let's let that dry for a few minutes before we do anything else. Are you hungry?"

I nod again and she goes to look through the cabinets and fixes up a plate of things. She brings the plate over a few minutes later and sets it in front of me. There are crackers, some with peanut butter and some with cheese, a bunch of grapes, and a chocolate chip cookie. Something pulls a side of my mouth up into a lopsided smirk as I look at the food she'd fixed for me.

"What?" she puts her hands on her hips in mock annoyance. "I gave you options because I figured you'd refuse to tell me what you like."

Nah, it's good. I'll eat it all; I'm pretty hungry. I don't know exactly what I've found funny. Maybe the fact that I probably _wouldn't_ have told her what I like. I give a small laugh as I pick up one of the crackers and nod. Mrs. Tuesti smiles again and sighs, "You are one piece of work, boy..." She sits down next to me and lifts my leg up onto her lap and proceeds to bandage my injured knee. "There you go, Vincent! Just make sure to keep it clean."

She doesn't leave me yet, but continues to sit there, holding my leg like that. "Is something the matter, Vincent?"

I think for a moment, but I decide to ask. "Well, I was just wondering... why do you do that?"

"Do what, honey?"

"Help me." Tolerate me. Deal with me. Stand me. _Live_ with me.

"Well, because I _want_ to, and because I want to care about you, and I want you to care about me too, and because I want to show you that there _are_ people in this world who honestly want to give you love."

She stands up, but before she walks away, I bring up the courage to say something that I know needs to be said, no matter how difficult it is to get out. "...Thanks."

"You're very welcome," she kisses the top of my head and goes to finish putting the groceries away.

----

"Yo. Vince. You're not lookin' too good. You alright?" Reno asks as we meet in the hallway at school.

"You take back your Goddamn implement of hell, Reno Fagan," I hold his skateboard out towards him so he can take it.

"_This_ did _that_ to you?" he laughs as he gets hold of it.

"It wants me dead, I swear it." I reach out tentatively with one finger to spin one of its wheels and smirk. "But it learned the hard way that it could never take me alive."

"You actually in a good mood, yo?" Reno tilts his head, the almost charming way he often does when he asks a question.

"Maybe a little," I say inexactly and scowl at him. "What of it?"

"Nothin', yo," he laughs. "Nothin' at all."

-----------------------------------------------

(Cid)

The good mood Vincent was in earlier this morning seems to have vanished. Since lunch, he's gone back to the sulky old Vincent we all know and love. His misery has worn him out so much, he's fallen asleep at his desk - still _my_ ex-desk. That's great, cos now I get to receive notes from Yuffie.

I yawn and unfold the piece of paper she's handed me. _"Isn't he cute sleeping like that? Don't u just wanna hug him & squeeze him? Do u think maybe he wants a girlfriend??!!"_

As usual, I groan inwardly as I pick up my pen to write a response. _"Yes. Sure. No."_ I hand the note back to Yuffie and watch her roll her eyes as she reads it. She quickly writes something and gives it back to me.

_"U r __NO__ fun, Cid!!!! Do u know that??"_

I write her one last response before the bell rings. _"Yep...?.!!?::()"_

"Time to go home. Wake up, Vinnycent," I say to the sleeping mope in my ex-desk.

"Huh-uh," he mumbles defiantly as he furrows his brow and turns his head.

"_Uh_-huh," I correct him. "You can come over and go right back to sleep on my nice, comfy bed. Pillows an' everything," I pick up my bag and his, and nudge his shoulder. "Come on now. I'll carry you out of here if I have to, but it's gonna look damn silly," I warn, but it doesn't seem to do much good. "Look, Vince, I hate to have to tell ya this, but I figure I oughtta give ya a heads up... Yuffie's out to get ya. She wants to be your girlfriend."

Vincent's head snaps up pretty quick. "What? Ew. I mean, uh..."

"Cid!" Yuffie glares at me. She punches me in the shoulder, and I can no longer hold back from laughing as she runs out of the classroom.

Vincent has managed to stand up and is trying to take my own backpack from me, instead of his. Although, if he's not awake enough to realize which bag belongs to him, I don't think he cares which one he carries.

"What's up, Vince?" I ask as we walk to my house. "You were so happy this morning."

"Mrrmh," he shrugs a shoulder.

"I see."

Once inside, Vincent trudges up the stairs to my room, and I head to the kitchen for a quick snack before following him.

He's laying on my bed, probably asleep already. "Vince, get up," I sigh. He does so, lazily, and I help him take off my backpack and his jacket. As I get the covers pulled back for him, he wanders over to the bookshelf and picks something up. He hands the book to me and slides into bed, eyes already closed before his head hits the pillow.

"What, you want me to read?" I ask. He nods.

"Read _to_ you?" I press further. He nods again.

"Well, alright then." I can't help but smile a little at such an odd request.

As soon as I climb into bed, Vincent shifts closer until he's curled up against me. I jump as a chilled hand slips under my shirt and rests on my stomach. Strangely, it's not the hand's placement that bothers me, but only the temperature of it. "Hey. You're cold."

"You're not," he mumbles sleepily. Touche. He sighs contentedly as I open the book and begin to read.

"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like 'I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming; 'Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?'"

I can feel Vincent smile against my arm. I _love_ to make him happy. So I read until sleep is nagging at me as well and making my eyelids heavy. I let the book drop to the carpet and give in.

----

I get a weird feeling. I can't really explain it, but maybe I know that someone's staring at me. I stir myself awake. "Mm, hey Vince." He's sitting up next to me, his hand still on my stomach, and just watching me.

"Yuffie... wants to... be my girlfriend?" he asks, brows drawn together with concern.

"I think so. Look at this," I laugh as I dig the note out of my pocket and show it to him. "Do you like her?"

He frowns as he takes the paper from me. "Well, of course I like her. But I really don't like her like _that_." As he reads over the words, a small smile comes to his face. "You really think I'm cute, Cid?"

"I, uh, well, you know..."

His features and his actions seem so childlike sometimes. Like the way he observes things, stares in wonder like it's all so overwhelming to him, and he just wants to take it all in.

It's like Reno's little sister, Elena. She didn't have the opportunity to live out a normal childhood, so when they took her in, she was a few years behind in maturity. I wonder if Vincent is the same way.

And with the way he's become so gentle with me. It's always a little surprising when the anger seems to just fade away and all that's left is a little boy who wants love and who wants to be normal. I've never seen him do that in front of anyone else though. Only when it's just the two of us.

He raises my shirt just enough so he can lean over and kiss just above my navel, then let his cheek rest against my stomach. This starts to trigger certain feelings in a certain part of my body.

"Vincent, come up here," I manage to find the words. "Can I give you a hug?"

He comes face to face to me. "You can do anything you want with me right now." His pretty red eyes, which are actually focused on mine and not shifting around nervously, seem more bright and animated than usual. They flitter shut as he lowers his head, and I raise mine, and our lips press lightly in a kiss.

In rare moments like these, I find it difficult to imagine Vincent as the violent creature he describes. Even with what I've seen and been told, it barely seems possible. For a minute, all I believe is that he's capable of only love and affection, and a better first kiss, I could never ask for.

"Something... I'm supposed to ask you..." he quietly wonders out loud. "Oh yes," he remembers slowly. "Would I like to ask my friend Cid to stay the night after school tomorrow, was what Reeve's mum asked me this morning."

"_Would_ you like to ask?" I ask.

"Yes, Cid. And she said to make sure pizza will be okay for dinner."

"Of course," I smile, trying not to act overexcited.

------------------------------------

_Awwwwwwww..._

_TBC, yo!_


	7. Chapter 7

Blargh, blargh, sexy bloody Vincent.

I hereby admittedly state that I knew hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.  
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenix.  
(That load of E's shouldn't be making me laugh like it is. I _have_ had a lot of popsickos in the past thirty minutes though. I blame the sugar. Anyhula, on with the show.)

-----------------------------------------------

(Cid)

"What would you like to do tonight, Cid?" Vincent asks, leading the way to his house.

"D'you think your mum'll take us to rent some movies?" I suggest.

"Yes, I think _Mrs. Tuesti_ will take us to the video store."

"Sorry..." I know that bothers him, but it just makes it easier.

I intentionally let my hand brush against Vincent's. Partly because I want to see what he'll do, and partly because I have a sudden urge for contact. It doesn't seem to bother him, so I grasp his hand and he squeezes back. That's all it seems he can do right now though, but that's all I need. I let him take his hand back without any objection.

"Cait Sith," Vincent picks up a little black and white cat in his front yard.

"What?" ...What?

"Reeve's cat. Cait Sith," Vincent holds the cat under one arm and fishes in his pocket for his keys with his other hand.

"Cait the cat."

"Yep."

"Huh. So what do you do after school when you don't end up coming home with me?" I ask as we get inside.

"Nothing much out of the ordinary," he tells me. "Eat, sit, write, think, jack off, watch tv... Is there anything special you'd like to do?"

"Tell me that list again?" It wouldn't surprise me in the least if it were true, but I think I just heard two very unusual words come out of shy little Vinny.

"You heard me, and you know it," he smirks at me.

----

"How was school today, Reeve?"

"Mm, it was fine, Dad. Kinda boring. Nothing exciting."

So dinner conversation among the Tuestis is no different from any other family I've had dinner with - including my own.

"Vincent, honey, sit up," Mrs. Tuesti reminds Vincent. "You know we've been over this."

Vincent sighs as he removes his arms from the table and raises his head a little.

"How about you, Vincent? How was your day?" Mr. Tuesti asks.

As per usual, all Vincent does is shrug and work on poking the cheese off his pizza.

"Still not gonna say anything, huh?"

Silence.

"Well then, one day when you decide you want to talk to _me_ then I'm just going to ignore you."

"Good," Vincent says roughly.

"If you're going to be disrespectful, and you're not going to talk or eat, then you can go upstairs and sit in your room till you're in a better mood."

Vincent stands, pushes his chair over with a huff, and stalks out of the room.

"Slam," Reeve says, and after a moment, there is indeed the sound of a door slam.

"No, Cid," Mr. Tuesti stops me as I reach down for the chair. "He's going to have to come down later and pick it up himself."

I feel bad for a number of reasons. For Vincent being upset. For Reeve's family having to deal with him. For feeling awkward and not knowing what to do right now.

Several loud thuds are heard from upstairs. "I'll go check on him," Mr. Tuesti heads upstairs.

"I'm so sorry, Cid," Mrs. Tuesti sighs.

"It's okay," I tell her, hoping to make her feel a little better.

"Does he act this way at your house?" she asks.

"A little. Sometimes. He's kinda been getting better about it though."

For the next several minutes, we listen to the muffled shouting and the usual "don't touch me"s, until Mr. Tuesti comes back down with blood on his hands.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Mrs. Tuesti gasps.

"Bloody nose," Mr. Tuesti sighs and rinses his hands in the sink before getting a few paper towels and a box of tissues. "Probably either screaming too much, or beating his face on the wall."

"Can I try to help?" I ask. "Please?"

----

I find Vincent in a familiar position: on his knees, in the corner, hands over his face.

"Here, Vinny," I kneel down next to him and offer up the tissues. "Still bleeding?" I reach out to pull his hand away from his face, but he catches my wrists tightly. Although his hands are slippery with blood, he wrestles me to the ground and straddles me, making it harder to fight my way out. "That hurts, Vince," I inform him.

A trail of blood has run down his mouth and chin, and has now gathered enough to drip off. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head just in time for a few warm drops to hit my cheek. He presses his groin against mine and exhales deeply. The fact that he seems to want to get off on his own blood is a slight concern.

"You can jerk off all you want. I really don't mind. You just have to let me get up first," I say quietly, sternly, and clearly. "Because I don't like this. You're hurting me, Vincent." He lets go of my hands and waits a moment before finally moving off of me.

I keep a close eye on him while I wipe his mess off my face and hands. The slightest hint of tongue slips out to taste the blood on his lips. His fingers sneak under the hem of his pants, just far enough to barely tease himself. His eyes flutter close as his body shudders from the light touch.

Under _any_ other circumstance, I would have simply come in my pants, right then and there. But unfortunately, this situation won't allow for it.

"Give me your hands," I manage to choke out. He reluctantly removes them from his pants and holds them out to me so I can clean them off. The way he's watching my hands on his, you'd think I was pulling rainbows out of my sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

I don't know what to say to him yet.

"I'm sorry, Cid," he repeats himself.

"Take your shirt off. It's all...red," I instruct.

"Cid," he drops the shirt on the ground. "Cid, please. I'm so sorry," fresh tears trickle down his cheeks.

"I know it..." I wipe off his mouth and press a ball of tissues under his nose.

"I just wanted to come. I wasn't thinking. I get in trouble that way a lot. Please don't be angry, Cid. I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry, Vince, just... worried."

"I'm sorry..." he whispers again. Mrs. Tuesti sneaks in to check on us and sits on one of the beds. We sit quiet until his nose stops bleeding. "I never wanted to hurt you," Vincent hides his face in the crook of my neck.

"I know. It's okay. I'm gonna give you a hug, alright?" I ask. I don't want to do something he wouldn't want. But he nods, so I go ahead and hold him. "What's the matter with you, Vinny? You've been in such a good mood all day. It's much easier to have fun with you when you're in a good mood, you know."

"Can I tell you something, Cid? And you won't tell anyone else?" Vincent asks.

"Of course. I won't tell anybody," I promise.

Mrs. Tuesti sneaks back out of the room, just in case Vincent happens to notice her, but she stays right outside the door.

"I'm not comfortable with Reeve's dad," he starts. "Even though I know I shouldn't be, I'm scared of him. And I don't wanna talk to him."

"Has he ever done anything bad to you?" Fuck, I hope not.

"No. He's very nice," he answers. "But earlier, he was trying to hold me down. It always gets me even more upset. I hate being held down. Like when they took Lucy away from me. Or when I'm trapped and I can't get away no matter how hard I try, cos I know I'm gonna get beaten and fucked, but he won't ever let me go..." He starts to cry harder.

"Who won't, Vince?"

"That... that bastard, my dad, he does it, he...he won't...he..."

"Shh, Vince. He's gone now, right?"

"I don't know. That's what everybody says, but what if he comes back for me?"

"Then I'll protect you. Remember? Me and Reno, we promised to keep you safe. And you know who else wants to keep you safe?"

"Wh-who?"

"Reeve does. And you know who else? Reeve's mum and dad."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely yeah. And on top of all that, you know who else?"

"Huh-uh."

"Cait Sith."

"Cid, he's a cat."

"Yeah. He's a _lethal_ motherfucken cat. If anybody tries to hurt ya, y'know who'll be at the front lines kickin' ass to protect ya? Cait fucken Sith." I actually get Vincent to laugh with this. I think that's a good sign.

"Shit's been real rough for you, Vince. We all understand that. And it's okay for you to be upset and cry and get mad about it. But it's when you're hurting people who don't deserve it, and especially when you're hurting yourself, that gets me really worried. I mean, what if someday you end up going to jail? Or what if you end up killing yourself? You know what it's like to have someone you really like taken away from you. That really scares me, Vincent. I don't want that to happen. You understand?"

"Yes," he sniffs. He wraps his arms around my neck and nuzzles against my shoulder. He's back to the sweet-tempered little boy I love to see.

"Are you ready to go downstairs?" I ask.

"No, Cid. I want to stay like this for a little while longer."

------------------------------------

_Hehe Ciddy's got the magic touch.  
So...should there be some sort of boy sex at the sleepover? I can't decide if it's time yet..._

_TBC, yo!_


	8. Chapter 8

Let's see what kinda mischief these boys can get into.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

And I don't own Silent Hill. (Yes I do. I own the movie and a game, but not the characters and concepts : P hahaha I'm so damn funny.)

-----------------------------------------------

(Vincent)

I don't know what it is about Cid that makes me feel safe. Something about the way he says his comforting things to me. Others have told me similar words before, but I could never believe them like I can believe Cid's words. Bastard. Why is he so special?

Doesn't matter. I could stay here for the rest of the weekend. I like it when he hugs me.

Shit! I do not like it. Those silly little thoughts slip in my head sometimes.

Liar. You like it, and you know it.

"Uhh, Cid? I think we can go downstairs now." I don't want to fight with myself anymore. It's kind of freaking me out.

"Pick up the chair, Vinny," Cid tells me quietly before letting me go.

----

The chair is in its rightful place at the dinner table. My pizza still sits on its plate where I'd left it. Soon it's in _its_ rightful place in my stomach.

"Wanna watch the movie now, Vince?" Cid suggests.

I nod and retrieve the movie. "Reeve?" I ask venturing into the living room, but unfortunately, I need to be louder. "Hey, uh, Reeve?"

"Whatcha need, Vincent?" I think he's a little thrown off by the fact that I'm actually speaking directly to him.

"Do you want to watch a movie with us?" I ask. Reeve was already using the television, so I figured an invite would go over better than a "get the fuck out."

"What kind of movie?"

"A scary movie."

"Get it set up. I'll go make some popcorn," and he goes to the kitchen to do just that.

----

This huge creature, the one dragging that enormous knife along the ground, he just ripped the skin off that girl's entire body! This huge creature, the stuff of nightmares, he's wearing only an apron and he creates fear in the hearts of everyone he comes across. This huge creature is my hero now, and fuck it, I want to be him when I grow up.

"Boo!"

Reeve, Cid, and I all nearly jump off the couch, not expecting anyone behind us.

"You boys really like this stuff? It's gonna give you nightmares..." Reeve's mum laughs at us as she exits the room.

"Scared the shit outta me..." Cid sighs and relaxes back in his seat. I nod and lay my head on his shoulder and hold onto his hand. That makes _me_ feel better, at least.

----

"I liked all the burning."

"Not surprising."

"And, and the barbed wire."

"I'm sure ya did, Vince."

"I'm gonna have to try that sometime."

"Please. _Please_ don't."

Cid and I are still discussing the movie at bedtime. Reeve offered to sleep on the couch so the two of us could have the bedroom to ourselves. He said he wasn't afraid to sleep alone; it was just a bunch of CGI effects and a guy in an apron.

"Hm. S'not fair. I want a bunch of monsters to help avenge _my_ anger. What's that, Cid?"

"Oh. It's, uh, it's my rabbit," Cid looks kind of embarrassed. "I keep him stuffed in my pillow case, but he kinda fell out, and then you saw him before I could get him back in."

"Does he have a name?"

"Nope, just goes by Rabbit."

"Well, Cid, you don't hafta keep him in your pillow case. I won't make fun of it or anything."

"Reno makes fun," he tentatively pulls the rabbit out again.

"I'm sure he doesn't _really_ mean it," I try to make light of the situation. "Hey Cid? Have you heard anything more from Yuffie about, well, how she likes me and all?"

"No," he laughs. "You're really worried about that, huh?"

"Yes," I respond. "Wouldn't you be?"

"Well, I guess I probably would be. You could be _my_ boyfriend instead."

"You mean that?" I can't tell if he's joking around or not.

"Sure. Why not? Cos... I think you're cute, and you like to kiss me," he laughs a little.

"Well, okay, Cid." And that just sorta killed the conversation. "So, what should we do then?"

"I dunno," Cid says helpfully. "You tired?"

"A little..." I tell him. I'm reminded of a problem that's been coming to mind off and on all evening. "Cid? You said earlier that you didn't care if I jerked off. Would you still be okay with it?"

"Yeah. Can I do it too?" he asks.

"Yeah. Can I sit next to you?"

"Sure, Vince," he says.

I slip under the covers next to Cid and kiss him. I get him to open his mouth some so I can brush my tongue against his. I sit up to straddle his hips, my hands sliding up his shirt, and his gently twisting and tugging my hair.

We work to remove our shirts and our pyjama bottoms, our bodies rubbing awkwardly against each other.

I want him all to myself. I want him very badly, but it seems that every time sex is involved, someone ends up getting hurt. I don't know if I can trust myself to keep from getting forceful and aggressive. Maybe... maybe we should stick to the original plan.

I sit up and slowly start to jerk off, hoping Cid will get the idea so I won't have to explain that I'm too much of a coward to fuck him. He doesn't say anything about it as he takes himself in his right hand, and lets the fingers on his left hand graze up and down my thigh. I know they won't touch anywhere else unless he asks, and I like them there. No amount of arguing with myself can convince me that I don't like these touches.

"Hey Vinny? Kiss me again?" Cid asks nicely, and I can't say no. I lean over him and our lips meet. The contact makes me shiver, and puts me over the edge. Before I can think to warn Cid, I feel myself start to come. I bite down hard on my lip, the sharp pain making the sensations pulsing through me feel stronger.

Cid gasps as my jizz lands on his stomach. His hips buck and he groans softly with each string of come he shoots, mixing his mess with mine. As our breathing and kissing slow, I give in to the urge to press my stomach to his, slick and slightly sticky.

"You have any tissues or anything?" he asks me after a moment.

"Um," I look around, hoping to find something useful, but coming up with nothing. "Here," I pick up my t-shirt and wipe myself off and fold it carefully so Cid has a clean part to use. He starts to laugh at my unsneaky creativity. "What?" I laugh too. "It's not like I don't jack off into enough of my shirts. And I gotta do laundry anyway."

"Nice, Vinny," Cid takes the shirt and gives me another quick kiss. "Very romantic of ya."

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_Uhhhh... This didn't quite turn out the way that I wanted it. Oh well! I'm no good at writing the secks, even though it can be kinda fun. Hee. So yeah. It's not hardcore secks, but I don't think little Vinnycent's quite ready for that. Also, no matter how hard I try, I haven't been able to get into the secks writin' kinda mood : ( Maybe soon though. We'll see : D_

_Damn. I've seen Silent Hill a billion times and even still, Pyramid Head gives me nightmares. I love him so much._

_Everybody make sure to watch the premier of House season four tonight!_

_TBC, yo!_


	9. Chapter 9

Our friendly Reevey's faring fairly frustrated with that feisty, fickle Vinny feller.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Reeve)

I don't get angry very easily anymore. I try not to hate anyone, and if I can't stop that, then I try to talk myself into just disliking them instead.

Sometimes, though, I can't keep myself from hating Vincent.

I feel _so_ guilty for it. I want to like him, and I want him to like me, and I want him as part of our family.

He was being so sweet last night. He woke me up, asking nicely if he could sleep with me. He asked if he could trust me, and if I'd keep the monsters away from him. I don't think he was fully awake and conscious when he asked me those things, but of course I said "yes." I was happy that he'd finally come to give me a chance at big brother. He curled up next to me and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

But then this morning, he's gone back to ignoring me. I don't really take well to being ignored. Not that I need constant attention, mind you. I'm way past that stage. But I try to say something as simple as "good morning" to Vincent, and he gives me a dirty look then goes on with his own business.

It just reminds me of when I was a little kid and getting the same responses for trying to get my bio-parents' attention. You know, trying for petty little things like food and medical care. Those kinds of insignificant needs.

I know I'm not five years old anymore, and I'm certainly not dependent on Vincent for those things, but I'm legitimately worried that his behaviour might trigger my old feelings and set me back. Certainly I've become much stronger emotionally over the past several years, but I was once a hurt little boy like he is. And if I'm going to regress, I'll be damned if I regress at the hands of damn Vincent.

I understand, to an extent, what he's going through, but I wish he'd learn how to control it. He's in therapy every few days, and apparently he has been for years. But it doesn't seem to do anything for him. I don't know if he completely ignores everything his therapists say, or if he's just simply immune to it. Maybe he's completely broken and can never be fixed? That's a scary thought. I wonder if that could even happen.

I'm glad to hear my mum yelling back at him. She's a good mother. She and my dad fixed me, and they're doing their damnedest to fix Vincent. But all Vincent does is get angry and it's frustrating to even the calmest and most even minded, like my mum. Like I said, she's a good mother, but sometimes even good mothers have their breaking points.

"I am sick and tired of hearing those words, Vincent!"

He's probably been cursing at her, or just saying "no" over and over again. Or both, more than likely.

"If you just can't be nice today, then you're coming straight home from school. You'll sit and do your homework, and I'll have a list of chores for you to do afterwards. If you _don't_ come straight home after school, then I'm going right over to Cid's house and drag you out of there screaming if I have to." She really means business. "_And_ you're not getting any good behaviour points for the rest of the day."

Ah, the behaviour points. If you earn enough points, you can either get a small prize at the end of the week (like ice cream, or a book, or something), or save up for something bigger at the end of the month (say, a video game perhaps). Vincent has been here for several months now, and he hasn't earned a single thing.

He storms out of the house, slamming the front door as hard as he can.

"One of these days, he's gonna slam a door of its hinges," my mum sighs.

"Sorry he's being mean, Mum," I try to comfort her with a hug.

"It's not your fault, Reevey. We'll get through to him someday."

I fucking hope so, or I'm gonna be the one calling his social worker to get him out of here. Dammit, I don't want to hate him.

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(Cid)

"Heya Vinnycent! You're off to school in a hurry," I hurry to catch up with Vincent when he doesn't slow down.

"Not going to school," he snarls.

"Well, where _are_ ya going?"

"I don't know."

Well, that's not very comforting. "Are you, uh, are ya coming back?"

"I don't know."

"Vinny, you gotta come back."

"Leave me alone, Cid."

"Lemme come with you."

He kind of... growls as a response. A growl isn't a yes or a no, so I follow him, sort of forgetting the trouble we'll get in for skipping class.

"Can we slow down a little?"

"No."

"Ya running away, Vin?"

"I don't know."

"Please don't run away," I reach out to put my hand on his shoulder. I want him to stop walking, and I want to hug him.

"Shit, Cidney, just shut up! I don't know what the hell I'm doing, okay? I'm just pissed off!" He veers off towards a crappy little park and pulls himself up onto the gym set. I climb up apprehensively and sit across from him.

"Did something happen this morning?" I ask.

"Why do you care?" he snaps.

"Cos I'm your boyfriend now, smart ass. I'm _supposed_ to care," I explain in a harsher tone than I initially intended.

"Yeah, well you don't _have _to. I don't need you to worry about me."

"Ouch, Vince."

"Shut up."

"No."

"Hmph."

"Come on. You wanna talk about it?"

"Huh-uh," he shakes his head. "When did you get your rabbit, Cid?"

"When I was like two, or somethin'. How come?" I wish he wouldn't change the subject.

"Does he keep you safe?"

"I, I guess it sorta makes me feel better," I tell him. "D'you have somethin' like that?"

"No, I don't, not really," he says. "But sometimes though, sometimes, when I feel all alone, when I'm scared of what's waiting in the dark, sometimes I'll pray, and I'll pretend someone listens... I guess that's... similar...?" he trails off. "I just, I keep fucking up."

"Aw, I'm sure it's not that bad." At least I _hope_ it's not that bad. I hope he hasn't kicked the Cait or anything like that.

"But it _is_, Cid," he sighs. "I'm scared their gonna send me back to that Goddamn group home."

I'd heard horror stories about those places from Elena. Too many kids and not enough adults to give a shit about them. "Don't take this the wrong way, Vincent, but... why don't you just... be nice?"

"I can't. I've tried, but it's not easy like that for me. Nothing's easy for me like it is for everyone else, and so I... I just keep fucking up," he looks up at me, his bright red eyes looking shiny with tears.

"Vincent..." I shift closer to him. "Vincent, please don't cry."

"I can't help it. I'm sorry," he sniffs quietly and lets me put my arms around him. I like to be able to comfort him, but I wish I didn't need to do it so often. Poor little guy, breaks my heart to see him like this. "Nobody's gonna love me. Nobody's gonna keep me cos I can't get shit together."

I wish he wouldn't say those things. "Did Reeve's parents say anything about having you moved?"

He shakes his head again. "But I'm scared they're getting to that point, Cid. I can't stop fucking up. I can't, and I hate myself for it," he's full on crying now, shaking, grasping at my shirt with one hand, and the back of his neck with the other.

"Don't say that, Vinny, please," I beg him. He's gonna make me start crying. "Hey now, what are you doin'?" I pull his hand away from his neck. He's got a little blood on his fingertips. I push his hair away, seeing the deep scratches he's given himself. That's a very scary thing to me, that he can hurt himself so easily like that. "Why don't we take you back home, Vinny?" I choke out.

Vincent lets me hold his hand while we walk to his house. Much to my relief, his mum's home when we get there. Neither of us can get Vinny to talk, so I have to explain why he was bleeding, and why we weren't in school.

"You're not always easy to deal with, Vincent," she says. "But you need to understand that that doesn't make us love you any less."

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_Did everybody watch House?? Good! heheheh_

_Back on topic. I have a couple later chapters written, but there need to be chapters in between now and then. So...hm...I gots me some thinkin' to do... Don't know how soon the next update will be D :_

_But I do wanna give a buncha thanks for the comments I'm getting. It's tres cool : D _

_TBC, yo!_


	10. Chapter 10

Slightly stupid shenanigans are sure to send certain silly scoundrels to sit silently in solitary.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Vincent)

There's something new that's wrong with me.

And strangely, I actually wanted to be in this situation. To see what it was like. To see if it would help.

I was sitting in my room feeling sorry for myself. A sudden need for human contact was growing stronger and stronger with every pathetic, pitiful minute, until I couldn't take it any more. I wanted it right then and there. So I wandered downstairs, to the kitchen, where dinner was being prepared.

And here I am now, apologizing for scaring the crap out of Mrs. Tuesti by being too quiet and suddenly appearing right next to her.

I've probably pissed her off now. Nobody likes to be startled like that. "Nevermind. I'm sorry," I mumble and turn to leave.

She stops me though. "No, wait. What do you need, honey?"

"I was wondering if I could try something," I still can't look her in the eyes. "Could I maybe have a hug?" And I can't forget the most important part that she likes to hear the most. "Um, please?"

Immediately, her arms are around me. "You don't need to ask for a hug, Vincent," she tells me, rubbing my back in a very gentle manner. She squeezes me tighter when I return the hug, and kisses the top of my head. "Does this feel okay?"

"Yes," I answer. It really does. It's been so long since I've had this kind of loving affection, the kind that a mother gives. I realize how much I've missed this. I love how it feels, and I love her for wanting to give it to me, no matter how much of a monster I am.

"Can I help with dinner?" I ask, knowing full well that I need to pay her back for such generosity.

"I'd like that, Vincent. Thank you," she tells me. "Do you know how to peel potatoes?"

I nod in response, and she points me to a pile of already washed potatoes. I hope they'll end up mashed, cos that'd taste pretty good.

"D'you think I could ask you, well, could you maybe help me with something?" I ask after a while.

"I'll see what I can do. Try me."

"My friend Yuffie, she really _likes_ me, and she won't stop flirting with me," I explain. Yes, this is still bothering me.

"Well, you're a very handsome young man, Vincent," Mrs. Tuesti tells me. "I wouldn't be surprised if you had girls all over you."

"But I don't like Yuffie that way. I like--" I catch myself before I let too much information slip. "...Somebody else."

"Then..." she pauses a moment to think. "I'd suggest that you straight up tell Yuffie that you don't want to hurt her feelings, but you don't feel the same way she feels about you, and that her flirting with you makes you uncomfortable."

"Think that'll work?"

"I don't know Yuffie that well, so I can't say for sure. But I do think it's a good place to start."

I keep quiet for a while, playing that scenario in my head, and wondering if something so simple really will convince Yuffie.

"So...?" Mrs. Tuesti grins at me. "Who's this lucky other one you like?"

Uh-oh. "I don't wanna say."

"Oh, come on," she teases. "Is it Tifa?"

"I, uh, no, not Tifa."

"Ah, I bet it's Aeris, isn't it?"

Maybe I oughtta go ahead and just say yes. Yes, I love Aeris, and we've been planning our future together. 2.5 kids, white picket fence, dog, cat, I'll head some sort of company, she'll stay home taking care of the kids, and we'll live happily until the divorce after one of us is caught having an affair with their best friend. But I shake my head no instead.

She thinks about it for a bit. "...Cid?" she asks hesitantly.

I feel my face grow hot, my heart beating faster, and my mouth going dry. And my hands are shaking a little bit too, cos I know the whole boy/boy thing is bad, and it's gonna make her hate me, and she'll never want to adopt me, and she'll send me away. If I can manage to cut myself with this here potato peeler, maybe I can create a decent distraction...

"...Yes," I answer quietly. I've sealed my fate. I'm doomed to be moved to another home. It'll happen tonight, I know it will.

"Oh..." She pauses again, maybe to gather her thoughts, to decide just how to tell me I can't live in her house anymore. "Does he like you back?"

I nod, and she smiles at me. "Good," she says. And then she nearly causes me to choke when she grins and asks, "So have you kissed him yet?"

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(Cid)

"Give it back," Vincent growls. He's clearly not enjoying this little trick in the least.

"I just want a little bit, Vinny. Come on!" Yuffie pleads, giving her best "pretty please" eyes.

"Give. It. Back. _Now_!"

"No way! You're not being very nice."

"Yuffie, you're the one who stole his shit in the first place. You started this whole thing," I remind her.

"Well he oughtta share it. It's a whole big thing of it anyway," Yuffie argues.

"He doesn't hafta give shit to you," Reno tells her.

Ya know what this whole fight is about? Goddamn peanut butter. Yuffie has Vincent's jar of peanut butter, and Vincent managed to swipe Yuffie's chocolate bar. This is... ridiculous.

Vincent's face is red. He's furious, and he's about to do the unthinkable. He unwraps Yuffie's candy bar and drops it in the mud.

"Vincent! No!" Yuffie gasps as her precious candy is rendered inedible.

"I told you to give it back, but you wouldn't listen!" he hisses. Vincent's first groups of words directed to an actual person aren't the most pleasant.

He grabs up a handful of mud and throws it at Yuffie. Yuffie is taken aback for a moment, and she begins to run, with Vincent hot on her heels. Reno and I take off after them, leaving the rest of our friends to enjoy the show.

"Careful, Yuffie!" I call out.

"Yeah, he's a biter! Watch your fingers!" Reno adds.

Vincent catches up with Yuffie and grabs her shirt. He's taking her down hard. They hit the ground with a collective "Unf!" and they both go rolling as the peanut butter jar goes flying. Seemingly unfazed, Vincent scrambles up and after his beloved lunch time item, then runs back towards Yuffie.

I'm scared to death that he'll try to Curb Stomp her head or something. "Vinny, stop!" I tell him, and he does so immediately, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Aeris and Tifa have rushed over to assist Yuffie, who'll be a little sore a little later on.

"Not bad, Vin, but you gotta be careful beatin' up girls, yo," Reno says.

"Yeah, you don't wanna end up with--"

"Detention, Mr. Highwind?" one of the teachers on recess duty interrupts me. He hands Vincent a detention slip and writes another one up for Yuffie.

"Heh. Uh, yeah. Detention."

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(Vincent)

"You know, you're really cute when you're angry," Yuffie doesn't seem to care that I could've broken her ribs knocking her to the ground like that.

"Don't say that!" I yell at her.

"But it's true, Vinny. You don't want me to lie, do you?"

"No! I want you to not say _anything_! And if you ever try to take my Goddamn peanut butter again, I swear I'll break your fucking kneecaps." I don't care what kind of punishment would await for that offense, but I've discovered something fucking wonderful in that little jar, and _nobody_ is gonna take it from me. Especially not Yuffie.

"See?" she goes on. "You just have the cutest little frustrated look on your face!"

"Yuffie! For crap's sake, I don't like you like that! I'm beginning to not like you at all! Stop telling me I'm cute, dammit!"

"Aw, you're just playing hard to get now," she giggles. "I'll see you in detention tomorrow, Vinny," she sings as she walks off back to class.

"Well..._Fuck_!" That certainly didn't go as well as I hoped it would.

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_Takemi-Chan - Vinny picks up the rock you threw, tosses it up in the air, and it hits him in the head hehehe Thank you for the pocky! I'll have to give it a try : )_

_Linnsche - It was indeed Silent Hill. I'm sorry for your lack of the games. D : But you have Rammstein, that has to count for something, right? I send you tons of Silent Hill love and hope that you can play them someday : D_

_VermilionValentine - I'm sure Cid would like that; we all know he loves his little Vinny-kitten, no matter how messed up he is : P_

_Well, this was sort of just some goofy filler. ("Filler" reminds me of pie filling. Mmm...pie...) Vinny sure has some weird sensitivity quirks. And I still gots me some thinkin' to do... We'll see what I'm able to come up with._

_TBC, yo!_


	11. Chapter 11

Pair plus one pare down to partake in perverse pantsless playtime.  
Wtf? It's Boy Secks!!

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Cid)

"Hah!" Vincent won the the Gran Turismo tournament.

"Oh! God! _Dam__m_it! Hold on! Fuck!" And Reno lost. ("_Reno_ lost?! Aw man, _I'm_ Reno...")

Fortunately for me, it was a two player game. And I already had the previous knowledge that I suck at racing games.

So now Reno's pissed cos he's been stripped down and bent over the bed simply because Vincent was graced with a serious case of beginner's luck. The consequence of losing was pretty serious. Vincent knew he'd either have to win, or he'd have to run pretty fast.

"Vince! I said 'hold on!'" Reno also seems to be in a bit of pain. There's a part of me that envies him right now, but another big part of me that doesn't. That's the part of me that doesn't like to suffer physical harm.

"I thought you said you liked it rough," Vincent taunts, wrapping Reno's ponytail around his hand and pulling. I have no idea how hard.

"I said," Reno struggles, failing at holding back a couple of tears while he turns his head to glare at Vincent. "I said I _might_! There's a difference, yo! Just gimme a Goddamn second!"

"Hey, come on," I sidle up behind Vincent. "Go easy on him for a little while." I nip at his earlobe for extra incentive. Vincent usually behaves when I tell him to. Especially when I have an advantage over some of his most sensitive spots.

He stands a bit straighter, clearly not anticipating being sandwiched between two very horny boys. Well, one may not be anymore. Lube, or no lube, it would have hurt pretty badly to be jammed into so forcefully all at once. Hm...

...Clearly not anticipating being sandwiched between _one_ very horny boy, and one whiny, very uncomfortable boy.

I initially planned to just sit back, have fun, and watch, but... I step back a moment to undress myself, figuring I might as well join in on some of the excitement too.

I reach my hands around and hold them against Vincent's stomach. "Say no to anything, and that's fine. I won't do it. Do ya trust me Vince?"

"Yes. What are you gonna do?"

I press the front of my body against the back of Vincent's and tell him, "I'm gonna help you to not kill poor Reno. If ya don't play nice, Vinny, I'm gonna hafta take your toy away."

"O-oh. I don't want that, Cid," he says, soft and innocent.

"Reno, just try and stay relaxed and give it a chance. Vincent'll stop if you need to, okay?"

Reno nods. I'm sure he'll be bitching about this whole ordeal for weeks.

"Can I start now? Please, Cidney?" Vincent begs.

"Slowly," I remind him, still holding him to me, and we move together. I guide his movements, making sure his thrusts stay slow and easy. Things are going good for a while. I look over Vincent's shoulder to check on Reno. "Doin' okay, Reno?"

"Fuck, _God_, yes," Reno answers. His hand has already found its way his dick, and he seems to be getting along happily.

"See, Vince?" I whisper in his ear, "This way you can both feel...really...fucking...good."

"Mmm...mm-hm..." Vincent turns his head to glance back at me. "Faster, Cid?" Well, since he asked so nicely, I suppose that would be okay.

I try to press closer to Vincent and rub myself against the small of his back. I don't want to overstep any boundaries with him, but I need to get off as badly as he does by now.

Vincent eventually works his way up to a quicker pace. That gets Reno panting heavily, till he cries out, spilling out all on my bed. But I'll deal with that later.

"Mm, Reno..." Vincent groans as Reno's insides are probably squeezing him even tighter. I find myself feeling jealous again. I suppose I don't really mind sharing him, but he's _my_ Vinny. I want to hear him saying _my_ name like that.

An idea flashes in my head. A _good_ idea, I think. I bite down on Vincent's shoulder, hoping it's not too soft or too hard for him to like it.

His body jerks and his breath catches. "_Shit_! Cidney, fuck yes," he growls, teeth clenched, fucking Reno rather harshly till he finally slows and stops, obviously spent.

Alright then. I'll just have to take care of myself, and that's perfectly fine, because I just need to come now. It doesn't matter how it happens.

Instantly, Reno is on his knees in front of me. He spits on his hand and takes my dick, giving it fast, fluid strokes. Fuck, I'm almost there... Only a couple moments after he takes me in his mouth, he's got me coming hard. I grab onto his shoulders for support as the last bursts of my orgasm rush through me.

"Reno?" I ask, after I'd gathered some of my thoughts off the floor and put their pieces back together. What I mean in just his name, though, is "what the hell was that all about?"

Although I haven't recovered enough to actually form that question, he seems to know what I'm trying to get at. "It's cos I," he clears his throat before going on, with a lopsided grin on his face, "Cos I was sorry for jizzing all over your comforter. I thought that might make us even."

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_Takemi-Chan! - Vincent's far too weak and stick-like-skinny to throw your boulder in the air. So I guess he's just gonna have to do a nose dive into it : P I like making Vinny into a good boy, but I don't want him to get to be TOO good, cos then I don't know what I'd do with the story! I'm not ready for it to end D: hehehehe_

_Linnsche! - I agree. Yuffie's obnoxious as heck, but she's a good character to have around to beat up and make fun of! Don't worry though. I'll try to think of some evil way for her to learn her lesson and leave poor Vincent alone : )  
_

_At least twice, when I've tried to type "Reno," I accidentally have typed "Recon." Criminy._

_I've been wanting to do this sort of scene, and I was in the mood to write it, and I need some more filler anyway. Hee. I hope it wasn't...weird or anything_

_-sigh- Is it legit to ask for any plot ideas and/or suggestions? hehehe_

_TBC, yo!_


	12. Chapter 12

Far, far too tired for alliteration.

A sunny day at the lake, you say?

The sunny days and lakes came from Linnsche!! (Yay! Thank you!) (I like the "pointless" kinds of ideas, by the way : D )  
The rocks and the throwing of them came from Takemi-Chan!! (And Yay! Thank you too!)

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Cid)

"Leave me the hell alone, Goddamn tramp!"

"Vincent! That's enough!"

"But she's seriously freaking me out!"

"Yuffie, please stop teasing Vincent."

"I haven't done anything to him."

"Like hell you haven't. Gonna give me a fucking panic attack."

"I _said_ that's enough of the language, Vincent."

At this point, Yuffie leans over and whispers something to Vincent. In response, he starts cursing again, and he might be trying to strangle her, but since they're sitting right next to each other, it's sort of a tricky angle. Hard to maneuver enough to get his hands around her throat.

"Alright," Mrs. Tuesti pulls the car over to the side of the road. "Yuffie, front seat. Reeve, I'm sorry, you gotta get in back." The two reluctantly get out, then back in. "If there's any more bad language, Vincent, I swear to God you're walking the rest of the way. Yuffie, please leave him alone for a while. You keep getting him worked up, and that's not fair to any of us."

"...Fine..." they both sigh as Mrs. Tuesti starts the car again.

Yuffie looks back to stick her tongue out at Vincent.

"Just ignore her, _please_," I beg. I'm very tired of being in a car, and I'm very tired of being in a car full of constant squabbling. I've been stuck in the back seat with the two at each other's throats for the past hour. Vincent scowls as he crosses his arms and shuts his eyes tight.

We're on our way to a sunny several days at the lake. It's a spring break tradition. Both Reno's family and Vincent's family own lake houses right next to each other. The adults sleep in one house, and we young folk stay in the other. Very fun. So every year, they pack up all the kids, and any parents who might want to join, and head out.

There's nothing good on the radio, so it's left on a soft rock station. The kind of music they play in dentists offices and grocery stores. Man, I'm way too young to be listening to this. What I wouldn't give for a Greenday cd right now...

At least Yuffie's calmed down. Sometimes I really have to sit down and try to remember the reasons I'm friends with her. Vincent has _quieted_ down, but he's far from calm. With a leg bouncing up and down quick and restlessly, and his hands clenching in and out of fists, he's even making _me_ nervous.

One more hour to go...

----

It looks like we've arrived still relatively sane and in one piece, so to speak. Reno, Vincent, and I get the downstairs bedroom. Everyone else has to haul their luggage upstairs.

"We gonna go jump first, yo?" Reno asks, searching his bag for his swim trunks.

"Course we are," I tell him. "Come on, Vincent, get ready. We're gonna go jump."

"Jump?" he asks.

"Well yeah. Into the lake," I say obviously. I can't give him any more details right now, because he'll refuse to go.

Unfortunately for me, Cloud pops in the room to ask, "Hey, are we gonna check out the 50 first?"

"Yeah," Reno says. "Just to see if anything happens."

----

Vincent has been pestering me to tell him what the hell we're doing. I've held fast to my refusal to tell. Yuffie keeps making up ridiculous stories about what the 50 is, which only makes Vincent even angrier at her.

But soon enough, we're standing on the edge of a 50 foot cliff, staring straight down at the lake. There's another one close by that's 15 or 20 feet tall. We jump off that one all the time.

"You gonna do it, Cid?" Reno asks.

"I might," I tell him. I want to. We all always want to. But nobody's ever gotten the courage up to actually do it. "Are you?"

Reno shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe."

If the past years are any indication, we'll stand around for about an hour, trying to talk ourselves into it, then go back the way we came to the smaller jump.

As I suspected, Vincent turns around and walks off without saying a word. I doubt he'll wander too far off though. I won't worry about him just yet. I'm still trying to tell myself that I can do this, dammit. All I need to do is close my eyes and jump and just get it over with.

"Hey Yuffie!" Vincent yells as he runs toward her, and subsequently, the edge of the cliff. Yuffie doesn't even have time to think. Vincent snatches her up tightly in his arms as he races by, drags her the extra couple of feet to the edge, and takes a running jump.

Vincent cries out in horror as he suddenly realizes he just took a flying leap of a fucking 50 foot cliff. Yuffie's screaming bloody murder. The rest of us get as close to the edge as possible to watch in silent terror as our friends drop rapidly towards the lake. They hit the water with a loud smack and splash.

"Can he even swim?" Reeve asks quietly after a couple seconds. There's still no sign of them after a couple more seconds. I don't know how long we're waiting, but it feels like fucking forever.

Come on, come on, come on...

A hand comes up through the water, holding... Yuffie's bikini top? The rest of Vincent comes up after the hand, and he immediately begins to make an escape without even trying to see where Yuffie might be. She pops up a moment later, gasping for air and trying to scream at Vincent at the same time.

He makes it to the edge of the lake though, and climbs out before Yuffie can. She chases him as best she can, still probably out of breath, and having to cover her chest with her arms. Also, she's still screaming. "Vincent! _VINCENT!_ I'm gonna fucking kill you!" This is all pretty damn entertaining.

He eventually drops the bikini top, but doesn't stop running till he's sure he's at a safe distance. Yuffie snatches it up and runs behind a small group of trees. She comes back out with her swimsuit back on and takes after Vincent again. When she gets somewhat close to him, she hurls what is probably a rock. A rather sizable rock. She hits Vincent square in the back of his head, and he drops to the ground almost instantly.

With that, the rest of us still up on the cliff are making our way back down as fast as possible. It's not easy to run through slightly wooded areas barefoot.

"I'm sorry, Vince, I'm sorry," Yuffie's knelt beside Vincent, trying to shake him awake.

"Fucken hell," I curse, getting on the ground next to him. "Come on, Vinny. You're okay, right?" I lay a hand on his shoulder, trying the shaking thing some more. "Wake up, Vincent. Gotta tell me you're alright."

He sort of half sobs, half coughs, and opens his eyes a little bit. He shuts them tight again and groans.

"Hey, you awake now?" Reeve asks.

"HmmYeah...?" Vincent says, though he sounds unsure, but it's enough to get the rest of us to remember to breathe again. He tries to blink his vision straight and to get his bearings.

"What's your name?" Aeris asks him.

"Vinnycent..."

"Do you know your phone number?"

"Uh... Yes. Why?" Vincent reaches up to the back of his head and groans again. "Oh, man..." are some of the last coherent words before he begins to cry and howl in pain. He turns onto his side and tries to curl up.

"We gotta get you back to the house, Vince," I tell him as I stand. "Come on, lemme help ya up." That ends up being quite a chore, but despite dizziness and a pounding headache, we get him up and on the way home. By the time we arrive at the house, he's able to walk by himself. Looks like a messy drunk, but he's managing.

Reeve, Rude, and Elena run inside to try and prepare the parents. They're a brave three. It's not easy telling a mother "We had an accident."

Vincent is sat at the kitchen table and given an ice pack.

"Do you remember everything that happened?" Mrs. Tuesti asks him.

"I think so," he answers, on the verge of tears, but trying very hard to stop them. "It's... I can't think straight with my head pounding like this..."

"He was out for a couple'a minutes or so," I tell her. "But he's been answering questions and everything."

"Okay, good. That's good, Vincent. Are you feeling any better?"

Vincent shakes his head no and the tears fall again. Mr. and Mrs. Tuesti discuss the benefits of going to the emergency room.

"I'll take him. You stay here and help with the kids," Mr. Tuesti said. I know Vincent would protest with every ounce of strength he has if he wasn't in so much pain. "Come on, buddy. I promise I'll take good care of ya." And after much reassuring from, well, everyone in the room, he helps Vincent to stand and make his way to the car.

Yuffie's paler than Vincent, and she looks so upset that I'm afraid she's gonna get sick. "I'm sorry!" she bursts into tears. "I didn't mean it! I didn't really wanna kill him! I'm sorry!" She runs upstairs bawling.

Damn. We haven't even been here for more than two hours. I'd say this is an all time drama record.

----

Several hours later, Mr. Tuesti returns. "They gave him a shot of morphine for the pain. He's pretty out of it," he explains, carrying poor Vincent to the bedroom. I want to help, but I don't want to be in the way. So I stand at the bedroom door while Mrs. Tuesti makes sure Vincent's doing okay.

"Heya, Vinnycent," I sit down gently on the bed once everyone's out of the room.

"Heya, Ciddy," he mutters, smiling a little bit.

"Feelin' alright?"

"Mhmm. I like the medicine. Makes the pain nice."

"That's good. I'm sorry you got hurt," I tell him.

"Got Yuffie good though," he smiles again.

"Yeah, you really did," I laugh. "It was pretty epic."

"Good, yeah, well, umm, was gonna say something..." he seems to be losing his train of thought. "Kinda want to sleep now..."

"Then do it. Goodnight, Vinny."

"Night, Cid," he mumbles, followed by a somewhat inarticulate group of words that sound an awful lot like, "And, love you, Cid..."

"Love you too, Vincent," I say quietly, giving him a soft kiss on his forehead. I leave the room happy and giddy and rather pissed off at Yuffie.

----

Vincent spends most of the next day sleeping while the rest of us go out swimming. I do feel guilty for that. But... he's asleep, so he doesn't have to know what he's missing out on.

He finally gets up around 7 in the evening and I help him fix up a hamburger from our earlier meal.

"Vinny, I'm really, really sorry," Yuffie comes into the kitchen with us.

Vincent shrugs and tries to take a small bite of food.

"I really didn't mean to hurt you like that. I'm sorry I almost killed you." She's been going on like this all day. "I really owe you, Vinny. I'll do anything you want. For forever."

"Leave me alone," Vincent tells her.

"Oh please, Vinny. I'm sorry! I have to make it up to you. Tell me anything you want me to do, or get for you, and I'll do it. Anything."

"I want you to leave me alone right now, is what I want you to do."

"Oh. Well... alright then," Yuffie says, dejectedly. "If there's anything you need, I'll do anything you want. Just let me know." She reminds just before she leaves the kitchen.

"Will do," Vincent says, giving her a slightly devilish grin.

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_VINCENT'S REVENGE!_

_I have horrible perception of measurement. If 50 feet is just a ridiculous amount, lemme know...  
_

_I fell off the trunk of a moving car one time. Smacked my head on the concrete. I was out for a good fifteen seconds or so. And that shot of morphine was a nice thing : P Goodtimes._

_I will be working on thinking of more shenanigans for the rest of their vacation at sunny Lake WhereverTheyAre. But now, it's about 5 in the am, and I gotsta be up at 8:30. heheheh_

_I'll update as soon as I can!  
_

_TBC, yo!_


	13. Chapter 13

Short, aimless, cute-ish, kinda fluff, but dammit, it's an update.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

Oh, and I hope everyone had an awesome, awesome H'ween!

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(Vincent)

My revenge on Yuffie is far from complete, but I'm not going to bother with it now. When you're lying in bed, unable to sleep, that's usually a pretty good time to think about things and plan things out. But I had passed that point quite a while ago.

I roll over on my other side and look at the clock. It's only been about ten minutes since I last checked it. I've run dry of ideas for vengeful retribution. By now, I can only dwell on the fact that I will forever be awake.

Now it's been about another five minutes since I looked at the clock. My head hurts too much to lay on my back, so I wriggle around to my_ other_ side, knowing I'll still be just as restless, but still holding out for a little bit of hope.

Okay. I'm going to sleep. This is really it.

Any minute now, it's gonna happen.

Here we go.

Aaaand... Why am I not asleep?

Maybe if I turn over on my stomach again. Didn't work the last seventy times, but who knows? It could really happen this time.

Or not.

Seven minutes later, the clock needs another glance. If I don't do something soon, I swear I will just burst into a million pieces. I sit up and survey my options. I can't really see much; it's dark.

Reno's barely hanging on the edge of the bed. Guess that's what you get for sticking three people in one bed. And although I consider it for a moment, I decide to _not_ push him all the way off. I don't really feel like being mean to him right now.

I look down at Cid, sleeping soundly in the middle. I am mentally demanding him to open his eyes.

_HEY! HEY CID! WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP! Why the hell isn't this working? WAKE UP!_

I move around a bit to make the mattress shift, but the movement is too subtle to wake him. "Cid? Are you asleep?" I whisper loudly, gently touching the side of his face.

"Mm... hm? I'm up..." he says, not too convincingly. "Whatcha need, Vince?"

Well shit. I hadn't actually thought that far ahead. I think I want attention. Someone to be awake with me. We can sit and stare at each other and simply acknowledge each other's awake-ness. Doesn't that sound like fun? Surely that isn't a game only _I_ like to play. "I can't sleep."

"Have you actually laid down and _tried_ to go to sleep?" he asks.

"For hours. It doesn't work."

"Count sheep," he suggests.

"I can't count, Cid."

"Have you actually laid down and _tried_ to count sheep?"

"Of course. One, two, thirty-twelve, nevele-neves, trente et deux, unus, una, unum. I'm completely lost after that."

"Go out in the living room and read till you get tired."

"I can't read, Cid."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why don'tcha go outside? Might be nice out."

I agree with Cid, but only if he comes with me. And he's kind enough to agree with me, so I give him a minute to orient himself. Then he lifts Reno's dangling arm onto the bed, makes sure he's tucked in well, and gives me a begrudging "Let's go then."

----

"Have any ideas of what to do with Yuffie?" Cid asks.

"Thought I'd go with flour bombs. Maybe fill some water guns with food colouring or something."

"Nice. I'll definitely help. I'm sure Reno'll be in too."

"Thanks, Cid, for being so nice to me, and coming outside and all."

"Only cos Yuffie gave ya a damn concussion and damn near killed ya. You need a little nice treatment." Cid tosses a stick into the lake. He smirks and adds "Just don't get used to it." I know he's kidding though. He's always nice to me. Way too nice, and dammit, I do love it.

"Yeah, well, thanks anyways. I was going crazy and getting restless in bed, but I'm feeling much better now."

Cid nods in quiet acknowlegement. We sit on the edge of the dock, feeling it sway gently with the movement of the water. We're holding hands and watching the stars. It's cheesy, but the night sky isn't this clear back in the city. It gives me hopeless romantic feelings of wishing life to be like this forever. Me and him, the quiet dark. I'll hate it when the moment's over.

Oh, Vincent. How about you not worry about that right now? You're in a good mood. Yeah, Cid's hand feels pretty good. That's what I want to worry about.

"So, we gonna get married someday?"

"You and me, Cid?" I ask for clarification.

"Course 'you and me, Cid'," he laughs at my silly thoughtlessness.

"Sounds good. But what'll we do about Ree?"

"I guess we can agree to keep him around. Like a pet or somethin'."

An image comes to mind of Cid and I getting ready for sleep with Reno curled up at the foot of our bed, maybe enjoying some sort of pet biscuit. I'd like that, but I don't know how much Reno would. We'll cross that bridge when the time comes though.

"Can I give ya a kiss?"

"I don't think you have to ask anymore, Cid. You can just do it if you want."

"Then... come'ere." Cid turns my face towards his, his fingers tickling my cheek, and then twining into my hair as he places a soft kiss on my lips. He smiles and says, "So tell me about these Yuffie bombs we're going to make..."

-----------------------------------------------

_Shite. I'm sorry it's been so long. I just couldn't get this chapter thing out of me, but I finally came up with... something. I guess something is better than nothing, eh? And I'm sorry this is so short and pointless. I had slight ideas of what to write about, but they just weren't gonna develop and get typed into textedit. (Yeah, I do most of my work in textedit. I'm super used to it. Make fun if you feel the need.)_

_Well, it's been easier for me to work on later chapter things, so there should be a sizable update sorta soon._

_Also, -Watches as Vinny jumps into a mountain- : )  
_

_TBC, yo!_


	14. Chapter 14

Ree gets a whole chapter entry! Huzzah!

I might go through later and add a little more to this. I dunno. We'll see what happens. I'm not sure if I'm completely satisfied with it, but I _am_ satisfied with it for now. Okay, here we go.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Reno)

"Rudey!" My big brother's come to see me! Recess is boring no longer!

"What's up, little brother?"

"Fucken nothin', yo. Boring as shit today," I tell him. "What're you guys doin' out here?"

"Our teacher went into labour right as class was starting," Reeve explains. "Pretty trippy."

"Hey Reeve?" Yuffie asks. "Does Vincent eat anything else at home?"

"Hardly," he looks over at Vince getting another spoonful of peanut butter. "We've got about five or six jars of it in the kitchen."

Vincent scowls at Reeve and scoots closer to Cid.

Convo ends there, but it's still not boring. It's nice with the new company. I loves my big brother.

"Hey you guys?" Cloud starts. "Have you noticed that's like the fourth or fifth time that guy's driven past here?"

"What guy?" Tifa asks.

"That one over there. See?" Cloud points and we catch the backside of a car just as it turns out of our sight. "Maybe he'll drive by again."

We sit and wait patiently, and sure enough, the same car circles around a few minutes later. Vincent chokes out a frightened cry and quickly leans over to try and hide behind Cid. "That's him, Cid!" he says, looking panic-stricken.

"What?" Cid asks.

"My dad. It's him."

"You sure, Vinny?"

"Yes! Cid, I saw him, it's him, I swear it is, I know it!"

"Um, okay, Vince, just stay there so he can't see you."

"He's gonna kill me, Cid. He's found me and he's gonna kill me."

"No he's not. He's gone again. Let's go inside and call your mum," Cid and I help him up, and Rude and Reeve follow.

----

"So...what exactly is the nature of the problem?" the lady in the office asks.

"Uh, uh, panic attack, I think that's gonna happen," Vincent slinks behind me and hides his face in my shirt.

"I'm sorry," the lady apologizes, "But your mother isn't answering the phone. I'll try again in a couple minutes. Why don't you just take a seat there and relax while--"

"Relax? Do you know what I'm going through right now? I am freaking out, man!" Vincent's nails are digging into my back and I try to un-dig him as un-forcefully as possible.

"Look here, Vince," Cid tries to lure him to sit. "Paper and pencils. We could... play hangman or somethin'?"

----

"Ante-jentacular? You sure that's a word, Vince?"

"Of_ course_ it's a goddamn word! And you just got hanged for it! Oh God, I've _killed_ you!"

"Are you sure you don't want to go see the nurse?" The office lady is doing all she can. I mean, there isn't much more she can do, other than keep calling Vincent's house every few minutes.

"No nurse! Just send me home!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't send you home without your parents' consent. Otherwise, I would have sent you off already." She seems a little wary of Vincent. But I suppose that every time he's been in the office, he's been silent and probably vehement and terrified for one reason or another. Now he's yelling a bunch and ready to pounce on each person who walks through the door.

Reeve and Rude snuck into the cafeteria to get Vincent a soda from one of the vending machines. I feel bad for Reeve cos there isn't much else for him to do. I know he wants to do more for Vince, but the little fella's just not all that ready to let Reeve into his head and his personal space. Nobody's gotten in as far as Cid, and it's hard to tell if anyone else will ever be given that privilege. Even I'm allowed in only some of the time. But that might just be because I often manage to crawl through Cid's window at just the right time.

"I'll walk home with you, Vince," Reeve says, "If we can't get ahold of Mum, okay?"

Vincent nods and tries to give him a little bit of a smile.

"I'll come too," Cid offers, and adds, "If ya want me to." He glances at Reeve when he says that. Probably doesn't want to overstep the family boundary, but wants to be with Vincent all the same. I know damn well how he feels.

The bell rings finally, cutting "short" the brazillionth round of Stress Hangman.

"Yo, little sister," I greet Elena when we meet in the hallway. It always makes me happy to see her. I loves my little sibling.

"Yo yourself, little brother," she says, latching her arms around my waist. Nevermind that I'm several years her senior; she still calls me "little." But only cos that's what Rude's always called me. It kinda stuck throughout the whole family.

Our group sets up base at Vincent/Reeve's house. Most are upstairs. Cid and Elena are probably playing with Vincent's hair. Reeve's watching for his mother's car. Rude and I are guarding the front and back doors. The front starts to open but Rude's foot stops it from opening more than a few inches.

"Halt!" I demand. "Know that we have _very_ dangerous weapons and we're ready to use them at any cost. Now... Friend or foe?"

"Mother."

"I guess that means we oughtta let her in, eh brother?"

Rude shrugs and backs away from the door.

"Dangerous weapons? Reno, you're holding a rolling pin," Mrs. Tuesti observes when we grant her entry into her own house.

"Yeah, yo, but how do you know it's not a rolling pin capable of electro shocking the enemy?" Hah! She _doesn't_ know! But I think I'd better break the news to her. "Uh, Vin's pretty sure we saw his dad around the skolli today at recess. But he oughtta still be in the staja, right yo?"

"Speak English, little brother, not Reno-slov," Rude tries to tell me.

But I see Cait Sith, so I go a little distracted. "Come here, pretty koshka!"

So Rude says "Vincent thinks his bio-dad was driving around school today, but you would have heard if he was out of jail, right?"

So this statement sets off a terribly concerned mother who is excellent at hiding her terribly-concerned-mother hysteria. I'm very impressed at how she keeps her calm while waiting to get ahold of Vinny's social worker. But the news is good. There's nothing suggesting any bad guys released from jail out to get our Vincent. A paranoid case of mistaken identity on his part. But no harm done, and we can all get on with getting him happy-ized.

-----------------------------------------------

_Yes. You ARE freaking out. MAN._

_Yes, I did mean to write "brazillionth." I got a text message from my friend Chuck that said "I haven't talked to you in like a brazillion years" and I laughed for about forty minutes. I though it was a good Reno word._

_I got a spotted frog Webkinz that I named Reno. Yeah. I have a couple Webkinz. I blame my little bruvva Doughnut._

_And now I've od'd on caffeine & it's time for sleep. I know that doesn't make much sense, but that's how it works. I'm babbling again. That happens a lot. Comments will be responded to in the coming day or so with the next updates. Eighty-Eights._

_TBC, yo!_


	15. Chapter 15

Apologies for this, but...dramatics wreak havok, trauma occurs, tensions run high...

DID I LULL YOU INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY?? Bwahaha, I'm a right trickster.

Can I ever write a story where somebody _doesn't_ get fuxored up like this? Doesn't seem like it. Sorry, Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenix.

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(Vincent)

My mind's a complete blank. Rational thought is nowhere in sight. I'm cornered and being stared down by the bastard that started my whole nightmare. I was never supposed to see this man again. I was to be kept safe from him.

I know what I _should_ be thinking. Scream. Yell. Hit. Fight. Run. Run. Run. _Run_, dammit. But I can't. Now I'm being pulled away and my feet just stumble along, not cooperating, but not fighting back either.

"I thought we'd have a nice little father-son chat," he snarls as he opens the car door. "Well? Get in." He pushes and I nearly whack my head as I sit. After he slams the door shut, I try to open it again, but it doesn't open. Where's the lock? Please, please let me find it...

"Not fast enough," he laughs and starts the ignition. I pull my knees up to my chest and lean my head down. I feel utterly sick.

"So how's life, Vincent?" he smiles maliciously. "How do you like your new family, huh?"

I turn to look at him and he smacks my head against the window. But I never give him an answer.

The details blur. It's all in slow motion and fast forward at the same time.

It's been a few weeks since I've been allowed outside by myself. Wasn't even supposed to go out alone today. I'd just walked down to the store for a soda and now somehow I'm on the floor, nose pressed into mildewed carpet.

When did we move indoors? Did I try to fight against him? Does it matter? Because I'm here now, and there's nothing to do about it. I thought he hated me. Why does he want me back?

"It doesn't matter how much I hate you. I want to take back what belongs to me. I only want what's mine."

He feeds me lies I've worked so hard to erase from my memory.

"Just like your mother," he hisses. "A worthless, good-for-nothing slut." He pulls me up onto my knees and holds my wrists above my head. "Open your mouth."

I shake my head vehemently. I really, _really_ don't want to.

"I said do it, brat," he twists my right arm, and I know he has no problem whatsoever with breaking it.

I have to decide which would be worse: A broken arm and a fucked mouth, or just the latter. I make my reluctant decision when he turns my arm a little more, threatening to go all the way.

I quickly open my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut as he shoves his dick too far in. I can't breathe. I'm fighting to pull back, gagging to expel him from my throat, but his hand holds my head in place. I get a gasp of air every few seconds, but that's far from enough. He finally comes and lets me fall to the ground so I can finally stop acting like a drowning victim.

The coughing stops and my breathing's getting normal again, but that nasty bitter taste will be in the back of my throat for a long time. Looks like I've been left alone for now. I think I can slide under the bed. Maybe he won't be able to find me here and I'll be able to die in peace.

I remember making Lucy do these things with me. Did it make her want to curl up and die? Did she hide from me, afraid to even breathe for fear of being found? It's a horrible feeling, and I'm a horrible person. I wish I could see her again, hug her, tell her I'm sorry and that I love her... Maybe this is my punishment, because the scary thing is, no matter how sorry I am, I really don't think that would keep me from taking advantage of her. I can't help but wonder if that's hereditary.

"You gonna hide there all day?"

"Yes," I grab at the carpet, but there's really nothing that will keep me from being dragged from under the bed by my feet. My shoes are pulled off and dropped.

"Always such a foolish child," he lifts me to my feet and starts to remove my shirt. "Did you miss me?" He unfastens my trousers and I shake my head no. "Aw, that's too bad. I missed you. Not too much, but a little bit." I brace myself on his shoulders for balance as he helps me step out of my pant legs.

What happened to my plans for revenge? He's supposed to be tied down and helpless. He's supposed to be at _my_ mercy this time. Yet here I am, too afraid to even try and put up a fight. But the reality of it is that my father is much stronger than I am. If I hit, he has no problem with hitting back even harder. Last time I tried to fight much, I ended up with a kitchen knife in the arm. I knew I wouldn't be so lucky the next time.

"Now take these off." I do what he says, sliding my underpants down my legs. They're forgotten on the floor when he lifts me up on the bed and pushes me playfully onto my back and onto the pillows. "Might be a slut, but you're damn pretty..." He smiles at me, unthreatening, like he wants to play and be nice.

I shouldn't like his fingertips skittering up my thighs, but I do. I can't help it. It makes my skin tingly and it makes me shiver a little. They move up to my chest, lightly pinching at sensitive flesh. I lean my head back and close my eyes.

"Do you like that, Vincent?" His lewd grin can be heard in his voice.

"Yes," I answer without thinking. I do like this. I want more of it. For a moment, I forget that this situation is incredibly wrong on so many levels.

He drags his tongue across my stomach, and I'm pulled out of my reverie, giving a surprised yelp. "Hey, that tickles," I tell him.

"Well, you want me to stop?" he laughs, but I shake my head. I feel my cheeks turning hot. I shouldn't want him to continue, but it feels good. If I'm not already, then I am definitely going to hell for letting myself take pleasure from this.

"Does it make you wanna get off?" Yes, yes, oh, yes... He places my hand over my cock and guides me to stroke. His free hand squeezes my balls and occasionally, a stray finger slips down to tease my ass. I can't keep my hips from jerking up off the bed. Can't keep myself quiet when every touch is bringing me closer and closer, till I just can't hold it in anymore.

"You're a dirty little slut, already coming so soon."

I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it. It felt so good.

His fingers slide into my mouth so I can lick my cum off of them.

"Good boy, knowing just what to do..." he whispers heavily against my ear. "Gotta turn around now. Show me that pretty little ass of yours."

But I don't want to. I don't want to be hurt. "No, please," I ask him.

"Oh, come on. Don't start crying," he sighs, grabbing my sides and flipping me onto my stomach. Shit, I've pissed him off and flicked on his mean side. That's not hard to do.

"I'm sorry!" I cry, "Don't be mad!"

"Shut up," he smacks my back end and I cut short any noise of pain it causes. He hits me again when I beg him to at least not do it dry. "Fucking pussy," he curses, searching for some sort of lotion or lubricant or something. "I figured you woulda grown up a little."

The minutes blur again, fast and slow, with the stabbing pain of being fucked like this. My body's much too young to be taken by someone so fully grown.

I turn to look at him, because if I don't move some way, my head will keep bumping into the wall.

"Being such a good boy, Vincent..." His nails scrape my chest, teeth leave deep indentations on my back, fingers press rough bruises into my sides. "You look so good, Vincent. You're a pretty little fuck. Yeah, you're _my_ pretty little fuck, aren't you?" He snatches a handful of hair yanks hard. "Aren't you?"

"Yes! Ah!" As soon as I give him an answer, he lets go. I guess I _am_ his. I don't seem to have much of a choice. We've shifted so that no matter how I try to move, my head still hits the wall.

"Aw yeah, you gotta sweet little ass, so tight... Shit, oh fuck. Fuck yes. Oh _fuck_ yes..." He finally finishes. I don't know how long it lasted, but it felt like forever. He shoves me carelessly off the bed. "Bathroom's over there."

With trembling hands, I carefully clean off the blood and semen from between my legs. My head is foggy and thoughts aren't very even. I splash some cool water on my face. It doesn't make me feel much better though.

Unsteady steps take me back to the empty bed. But I'm not alone for too long. He comes strolling in, half dressed. "How old are you now, Vince? Twelve?"

"Thirteen," I correct him. He shrugs, not caring in the least, and offers me his cigarette. I take it, but realize I have no idea what to do with it, and no desire to learn. I hand it back and he gives a halfhearted laugh.

"You gonna be okay, kid?" he asks after a while.

"Do you really care?"

He sighs at my despondent reply and sits next to me. "You'll be fine. Lay down."

The sheets feel cold as they cover my bare skin. With senses overloaded and emotions running chaotic, I shut down somehow and manage to doze off.

----

"Wake up. Get dressed."

My muscles are aching painfully, but I do as I'm told.

"Remember, kid. You tell anyone about this, and I swear to God I'll come after your new mommy and daddy, and your brother too. Don't think I've forgotten about your two boyfriends either. And then, I'll really give you something to cry about. Understand?"

I nod reluctantly as he leads me to the front door.

"I'll come get you when I want you. You'd better get walking now. The sun'll be going down soon."

"But I don't even know where I am." How am I supposed to get home from some place I've never been before?

"Good luck," he smiles and shuts the door.

----

There's no recollection of walking back to my house, but here I am nonetheless. Gotta keep on a little bit longer, then I can just go to bed, but I can't keep the sick in any more. On my hands and knees again, the coughing and retching feel entirely torturous. Have I not been through enough today? Is this extra bit of agony really necessary?

At least I'm rid of that bitter nastiness that was forced down my throat, making me ill like any poison would. It's out of me, in the grass now, and if I could get the energy up, I'd take the garden hose and wash it all away. I wipe my mouth on my shirt sleeve and stumble-crawl to the front steps and lay down.

Is this where I give up? I think that's alright.

I press my cheek against the rough concrete. It scrapes at my skin, and I don't think I care much. I fade between reality and lies, and get lost remembering which one's which. The day's events suddenly seem so unreal. It never happened, did it? But then why do I feel so _awful_?

Mrs. Tuesti is sitting next to me. I wonder when she got there. "Vincent, honey, are you alright?"

No, I've been hurt. I've been hurt so bad. "Yeah. Just got sick." I'm not safe anymore. I'm really scared. "Couldn't wait till I got inside." Everything we'd begun to mend has been ripped wide open again. "Just needed to lay down for a minute." I need comfort in the worst way. "Sorry about getting it on the lawn." I'm not sorry. I'm not sure I can feel anything at all right now.

"Where have you been? At Cid's house?" she asks.

"Yes." No, I've been reliving out my worst nightmare.

"Let me help you inside. We'll get you in bed." She sounds so caring, so concerned.

"No, I can do it." I want your help. I really do. "Think I'm feeling a little better now." That's the furthest thing from the truth.

I find some way inside, into clean clothes and under the covers. I'm careful to hide any bruises or markings that might give away what I need to keep hidden.

"Do you need anything?" Mrs. Tuesti asks, tucking me in.

Yes. Yes, please. Take me in your arms and hold me close. Tell me it was all a bad dream and kiss away the monsters. Make me believe the world isn't such a scary place. Convince me that I am _your_ son, and not the son of some devil. Keep me safe. Don't let me go. Stay here with me, by my side all night. Oh, God. If you only knew what I really need...

I shake my head no. "I'm fine."

More words are spoken, but I'm not giving them much attention. The lights go out. The door closes. I'm left alone.

I almost shove Cid's sweatshirt onto the floor. I stole it from him way back at the lake house and I've been clinging to it at night like its some sort of lifeline. A token of safety to keep the nightmares away. I doubt it can help me anymore though. Especially not tonight. I'm just getting it dirty now with bad thoughts and all the disgustingness I feel. But... maybe I do need it. It's better than nothing.

Reeve comes into the room a while later. He asks me if I'm feeling okay, but I pretend to be asleep. Even with him in the next bed, even though I know he's there, I'm still alone.

My emotions, my heart, my soul, I can feel everything inside me hardening. Fear, lies, anger, hate - all familiar feelings - retake their rightful places, making me feel numb again.

I don't think I sleep at all. I don't think I even move. I haven't bothered with dinner, but I'm not hungry. I wonder how long it takes to starve to death. Maybe it can happen overnight. If I ever do fall asleep, maybe I won't wake up tomorrow.

The sun rises, the alarm goes off, the rest of the household begins their day. But I can't, or I won't. I'm either unable or unwilling to function. Maybe it's a little of both. I don't know which. I don't know, don't care. What does it matter? It doesn't. Nothing fucking matters.

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_I love the word "trousers."_

_Linnsche - I'm happy I made you laugh! But I hope the mad state you were in was a good one, and not a bad one heheheh Sometimes, it just gets to the point where it drives me crazy not being able to come up with something decent, so I want to force words outta me. That's probably a bad thing, eh? So thanks for reminding me to go at my own pace : )_

_Duelistgirl11 - Wow, I've addicted you! hee! Thanks for liking it! Do you and your boyfriend have a pet Reno too? hehehe : D_

_TBC, yo!_


	16. Chapter 16

Hmmmm... Not much I can think of to say at the moment.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Cid)

I got seriously worried when Vincent didn't show up in class this morning. There was also the problem of only having Yuffie to write notes to. I was fine with that situation, Yuffie being my only source of in-class entertainment, until Vincent came along. I'd discovered that getting a note from Vincent was much more exciting.

Today, I couldn't even be bothered to think of mean things to write in response to Yuffie's messages.

_"He's FINE,"_ she wrote. _"He'll be back on Monday, pouting & moping just like u r. NOW TALK 2 ME!!!!"_

I couldn't help but worry though. What if he'd hurt himself? Or what if he decided to run away? Or... or... something...? I've been thinking the worst all day long.

So now that school's finally out, Reno and I are headed over to Vincent's. I do want to make sure he's okay, and honestly, I miss him.

"Would you boys keep an eye on Vincent for me?" Mrs. Tuesti asks us. "I need to run to the grocery store."

"Yes, ma'am!" we answer and amble up the stairs.

"Heya Vinny! How ya doin'?"

"Shut the door," he demands weakly. "What do you want?" He's wrapped up in the blankets from the nose down. His eyes look tired and... has he been crying?

"Just wanted to see if you were feelin' okay, yo," Reno explains.

"'m fine."

"Ya sure, yo? I mean, no offense, but you don't look so good."

Vincent closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm never gonna be okay. But I hafta be, don't I?"

"What do ya mean, Vince?" I ask, making to sit on his bed.

"I'm not even sure," he mumbles. "I don't even know anymore..."

I reach up to play with his hair, which he tends to find calming, but he quickly hides the rest of himself under the covers. "Don't! Just... fucking don't."

"Vincent, I'm sorry," I apologize, a little scared. He pushes the blankets off - so _that's_ where my sweatshirt is - and sits up. With every movement, he seems to try to keep from wincing. I have to keep reminding myself to not reach up and brush his sleep-tousled hair away from his face. He won't look at me, or Reno, just at the floor. God, he hasn't been like this for a while.

"Cid, I..." he struggles for his words and wipes at his tears with his shaky hands. "I want you to go. Leave me alone."

I gently grasp his hand. "But Vincent--"

"Leave me alone!" he shouts, pulling away from my touch as if I'd burned him. "I don't need either of you anymore. Just go." He pulls his knees to his chest and holds himself, fighting back tears.

"Come on, Cid," Reno says, obviously very let down. "Th' bastard doesn't want us. Guess that means we don't need him either."

So this is my first taste of rejection and it's damn cruel. Worse than I could've imagined, and not at all what I expected from Vincent. It's left me lost for words. There are things I want to say, but they're stuck in my head and they're not coming out any time soon. Not until Reno and I are on our way to his house. But even then, it's not even what I want to say.

"What the _fuck_? Reno, why did he do that?"

"I dunno, man," Reno sniffs. "That was low. Fucking low."

"Maybe he has a fever. Maybe it's making him not think straight." I try to force positive thoughts on the both of us, but it's pointless. I can still feel the sting of tears threatening to fall no matter what I say. I thought he loved me. I thought Reno and I both made him happy. "Do you think Vince'll change his mind?"

"I dunno, Cidney. We both know he's pretty well fucked up, yo. Maybe he wasn't getting better like we thought he was."

When we get to Reno's house, we find Rude and Reeve playing video games in the family room. "Yo Reeve," Reno starts. "Your too good brother just decided he doesn't need his friends anymore. He told us off, yo, and then sat in his room, crying."

"Well, what did you do to him?" Reeve asks.

"Didn't do shit to him, Reevey. Went over to see if he was feelin' okay and fucken freaked on us."

Reeve sighs and sets down his video game controller. "I guess I'd better get home home then."

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(Vincent)

I am lower than dirt. Worse than scum. An all-around bad person. I feel terrible. I _am_ terrible. And once again, I'm all alone.

But if I don't push them away, they might get hurt. The more alone I am, the less it'll hurt everyone when I go away.

It was so close to spilling out. I wanted to tell them. Maybe it was one of those things that you want to, or have to, say but you're so nervous, your stomach is all twisted, your hands are shaking. Then, okay, on the count of 3, you're going to just blurt it out and get it over with. 1...2...3...take a deep breath and hold it in...4...5...6...7...8...

Well, that fails, but keep counting until the talking just starts. Except I said the absolute opposite of what I wanted to say.

I wanted to let somebody know what I went through yesterday, how much pain I'm in, how I feel so many bad things, yet at the same time, feel absolutely nothing. I wanted to tell them, though the words could never fully describe, how scared I am.

I wanted to stop them from leaving. To make them stay so I could apologize. Wanted them to beat me up for being such a fuck. And to hug me and say that everything's okay. I want to curl up between them and fall asleep and feel safe.

I want it so bad! I _hurt_ so bad for it. My chest is going to collapse, it's so tight. My stomach tangles in knots that will never come untied. My heart's wrung so much, it can't possibly function anymore. God, it hurts! When will I have hurt enough?

I want it to stop. I want to feel. I want to be happy. I want to be normal. I want to be _fine_. I want it, please...

My fingers twist in my hair and pull. That hurts too, but it's so much better than the complete misery of knowing that I'm alone. That I'm fucked.

Your wants don't seem to matter, Vincent. Not at all. No god to care for you.

My fist beats into the side of my head until I simply can't take it anymore. I let out a groan, a growl through clenched teeth, a sorrowful cry, until there's absolutely no breath left in me, and even then, I still try to scream through it. I hate the salty taste of tears. Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to play a part in this sick world?

And why will nobody leave me alone? I don't want these hands touching me, these arms around me, this calm voice trying to soothe me. Just let me go, in all senses of it, I want to be let go. Forgotten. It'd be so much easier.

"What's wrong, Vincent? What's the matter?"

"It hurts..."

"What hurts, honey?"

"Everything. It all hurts," I sob.

"It's okay, I'm here now. It's okay to cry, sweetie. Just let it all out..."

It's not okay. It can't be. But my words are stuck and lost in my throat. I could never explain it anyway.

----

The days creep by at a snail's pace. I can hardly sleep, and when I do, it's never enough.

I think I know what it's like to be dead. I feel dead in every sense, except for this shell of skin, bones, and blood that used to be home to the soul of a boy. The life's been leaking out through its fractured casing, and it shows no signs of stopping. Somehow I'm still breathing, going through the motions, everything's good. But I still only want to lay in bed all day.

"Wake up. Time to get ready for school."

When nobody else is in the room, I go to stand and fall right back on the bed. Guess I stood up too fast. I'm dizzy and the room fades to black quickly. My head feels sort of like it's melting into itself. But the feeling passes and soon things look normal again. It's very, very tempting to crawl back under the blankets. My pillow's reaching out to me, begging me to rest my aching head on it for just a little while longer. I reach back to it, but the cat jumps on it. He's staring like he's telling me to get up.

"What do you want, Cait Sith?" I ask, as if he'll answer. He meows at me. "Can I have a hug?" I hold out my hand. He meows again and comes to me, nuzzling his face against my arm. He purrs as I scratch gently behind his ears and stroke down his back, to the end of his tail. "Thanks, Cait," I kiss his head. "Mrrow," he tells me.

"Come on, slowpoke!" The call comes from downstairs. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Maybe I got dizzy cos I'm hungry. I haven't been able to get much food in me. Then, it becomes an issue of _keeping_ it in me.

"Are you okay?"

I've been asked that question so many damn times the past few days.

"Uh-huh," I nod, never looking the asking party in the eye, hoping I have them convinced. I know what will happen if I were to tell anyone. I don't want to try it.

"You're sure you feel okay?" A caring hand presses against my forehead and determines that there is no fever. "You call me if you need me to come pick you up from class."

I mutter some agreement and manage a few bites of cereal.

A couple days ago, Cid got to school before me and reclaimed his corner seat. The one in the back left next to the wall. I sit two desks over now, and Yuffie's in between us. Cid and I haven't spoken for five days. Same with Reno. It's shit being friendless again, but I keep reminding myself it's for the best.

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_Poor Vinny... he talks to cats D :_

_KaytehKichiKopyKatKakashi - Sorry I forgot to mention you in the last entry : 3 Thanks much for reading & commenting! You're ace : D_

_So. Unrelatedly... Anybody think solo Danzig does Misfits covers?_

_TBC, yo!_


	17. Chapter 17

Well this certainly wasn't part of the original story plan... I really don't even know where this one came from. It just all kinda appeared throughout the day.

Okay, um, let's see... This chapter thing holds the fierce return of Sexy Bloody Vincent.

For turning him into an emo kid whose brain is the perfect fertile ground for growing the seeds of a serial killer, I sort of apologize. And I sort of _don't_ apologize, cos that's just my favourite flavour of Vincent.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix. And I'm sure Squeeeeeeeenix is gonna be reeeeaaaal proud today...

_-----------------------------------------------_

(Vincent)

I have been told that in death, there can be a world that is so much greater than the one in which I already exist. It's so tempting to see if it's true sometimes. But I've been lied to so much, I can't quite convince myself that it's worth the risk. With my luck, when I die, everything will somehow be worse than it already is. Somehow, I will manage to be even unhappier. That result wouldn't surprise me at all.

No matter how much I think want to die, I know I could never end it all of my own volition. And logically, I know it's not the answer to my problems.

My common sense is usually present, though very seldom does it actually have power over my irrational stupidity.

Like right now. Logically, I know exactly what's around me: various pieces of hardware, cardboard storage boxes filled with holiday ornaments and old items nobody has the will to get rid of, a few old chairs, and a table leaning on its side against the wall.

But in the pitch black that's covered me in this little basement storage closet, my scared and overactive imagination presents the possibility of other things lurking in the darkness.

I wait, still and silent, to be attacked. Waiting for claws and teeth to tear me to shreds. And waiting to see sinful red eyes - like mine, like all the worst demons probably have - menacing and glowing and staring at me like I'm some kind of snack.

"Nothing here, nothing here..." I sing almost silently to myself and raise my flashlight, "See that?" I click the light on and sweep it around the room, "Told you there was nothing."

Leaning against the closed door of the closet, I slip my pyjama pants down and slide to the floor, then set the flashlight on its backside so it points to the ceiling and gives a small area of decent light.

I know how this process works. I've been through it before, but this time, it's a little bit different. Friends and family have actually taken to caring for me. And, fucking hell, as much as I hate it, I've ended up caring for them. There's nobody to take my frustrations out on anymore, so I turn the frustrations inward.

Logically, I know that trying to cut away my misery is stupid. It's a bad idea and it surely won't fix me in the end. But rationality battled and lost many times before I decided to come down here.

Ignoring the desire to simply slash at my face and arms with reckless abandon, I trace the razor blade in a line across my inner thigh. Anywhere else, and the marks would risk being seen by someone who would give a crap. No one but me will be able to see this, and I certainly couldn't care any less. I just need to do anything to numb myself. As long as I'm hurting _something_, it's better than nothing.

"You're a fucking idiot," I tell myself but promptly discard the thought. I know I am, but I really don't feel like dealing with that issue right now. So I push the blade harder, breaking the skin, and digging it in as deep as I possibly can, forcing sounds of pain to stay in my throat.

I move the blade along the imaginary line. After a while, it doesn't hurt so badly anymore. It does hurt, but it's almost good. A kind of bittersweet, tingling ache. Blood begins to spill from the wound, dribbling slow streams across my leg. I stifle a groan over its tickling warmth and bring the flashlight closer to better see the gore fest I'm treating myself to.

"Fucking freak..." I mutter, watching myself grow hard. But I can't help what turns me on, so I indulge my wants, dragging my fingers through the blood and along the underside of my erection, up and around the tip, collecting drops of precum and tasting the tangy, metallic mix.(!)

Thoughts of Lucy come to mind, as they often tend to do. I imagine that it's_ her_ blood, not mine, being shed for this obscene act. I give a quiet yet desperate and grieving moan and ache for her to be here with me now. I'm still in love with her and her pretty light brown curls. I think I'd slit her open for a chance to play with her insides.

Somewhere in my misguided brain, I know I shouldn't be thinking these things, but the last of my sensibility has begun stepping down for the time being. It leaves me with images of poor Lucy, bound and frightened, her eyes wide and panicked as she pleads for her life with her sweet little girl's voice. "Please, please, Vincent," she would beg, tears slipping down her soft cheeks, "No more, please!"

But all I would be able to do is more. Give her more scars, more bruises for her delicate throat, and more reasons to cry harder. God, what a mess we'd make.

"Oh fuck, Lucy..."

I may have gone a little stupid from sex at the moment, but to be caught in this situation would be very, very bad. I firmly press one red-slicked hand against my mouth to keep from saying much else, while the other hand works hard to give exceedingly pleasant satisfaction. The tension building in the pit of my stomach can't hold itself in anymore and finally lets go, turning my senses to jelly and dousing them in absolute awesomeness, if only for a just a few short moments.

I regain some sanity, coming down from my orgasm high, and I know I don't want to open my eyes, but at some point I'll have no other choice. As soon as I see what I've done, all good feelings are gone and I'm left with blood, sex, and guilt spattered along my body. I hate this guilt. I've never had to deal with it before like I've been dealing with it lately. Never cared enough for anyone to actually come face to face with shame like this.

Red and white mix and eventually soak through the handful of tissues I'm fumbling with. I work my shirt off and press the fabric to the new wound on my leg. I didn't realize it would bleed so much. The skin around it is bright pink and swollen. It's much more sensitive now since my post-masturbation thoughts are a lot clearer than the pre-masturbation ones.

Not that long ago, I wouldn't have minded this whole self-inflicted pain/self-gratification thing one bit. It would have been worth it all to have those few minutes of relief where nothing else existed. But now, I feel dirty, I feel sorry, and I feel kind of like I'm gonna get sick.

----

Faucet on the lowest pressure setting, I watch the last of the reddened water swirl down the drain. Face, hands, and body are clean. Incriminating tissues are flushed. I sneak back to bed, tucking the blood stained shirt under the mattress to be dealt with it later. I'm pretty good about doing my own laundry. Nobody'll see it.

One of the dangers of sharing a bedroom is that one person often notices when the other is gone. But Reeve seems to have been asleep this whole time. Good. One less thing for me to worry about.

Cid's jacket sits next to my pillow. I reach for it and shove it off the bed. I definitely don't feel right having it anymore. I was able to ignore it for a while, but I still worried that I was defiling something that belongs to someone much better than me. I think what I did tonight makes me feel that it's time to give it back. Then maybe we can start to forget each other.

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_(!)Hello, run-on-sentence. You're definitely not the only one on this page, but you seem to be the longest. I refuse to fix you!_

_So, ah, yeeaahh... That was a little fucked up. And I liked it. What's done is done, what's posted is posted : P _

_I'm still working on filling in holes that are in the next couple of chapter things. I wish the holes would just fill up on their own. Write your own damn self, story!_

_And...sorry about this, but... I'll respond to recent comments with the next update. So don't think my lateness in responding means I don't love you guys. Cos I do. I do love you guys. You're all radtastic and I wanna be each and every one of you when I grow up : 3_

_TBC, yo!_


	18. Chapter 18

As it tends to happen, I dislike the end of this part. But I'm just going to have to deal with it. And maybe months later, after I think I've completely forgotten about it, a decent ending might suddenly pop into my head and I'll edit it in. Maybe. Until then... That's all you're getting tonight! eh-heh-heh-heh : )

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Cid)

I burst into tears at the dinner table last night. "Vincent doesn't love me anymore," I bawled and ran to my room.

I'm so glad today's Saturday. I just couldn't have gotten up this morning for anything. I've been awake for about a half hour now, but haven't gotten out of bed yet. Nice to be able to sleep in when ya really need it.

Sigh... Goddamned doorbell. Can't you see I'm trying to sulk?

I open the front door to find Vincent. I'm surprised to see him, but I don't know if I should be excited or upset that he's here.

"Came to give you your jacket back, but I don't think I can bring myself to it," he greets me sullenly.

"Yeah, doesn't look like it," I say, noticing that he's actually wearing the sweatshirt he was supposedly going to return. "You look like shit, Vince. You wanna come upstairs?"

"Haven't slept much at all lately. Can't seem to turn my mind off..." he yawns, following me to my room. He falls onto my bed and curls up under the covers.

"So you're not feeling any better?" I get in next to him.

He shook his head. "It's driving me insane."

Good Lord. Can he not just answer a question? Does everything he says have to be so goddamn cryptic?

"Vincent, just tell me what's wrong. Why are you acting like this?"

"I can't, Cid. Can't explain cos it'll just turn into more of a whole big mess. I still don't want to hurt you, I never have wanted to. I'm sorry I said those things the other day, but you wouldn't understand why things need to be that way, so I can't take back what I said, and I need you to just trust me on this please, okay?" The words drag out of him like sleep-deprived babble tends to do.

"How can I try to understand _anything_ when you won't even give me a chance to? I _want_ to," I tell him. Why does he have to be so difficult?! It's hard loving an unstable emotional wreck.

"No..." he mumbles, cuddling against my chest. He tenses up when I put my arm around his back, and he doesn't quite relax again. "Don't talk about it..."

"Vince. Dammit. No."

But he wriggles out of bed. "I wish you wouldn't start this. Why don't you just leave it alone?"

"No! You're not leaving." I make it past him to slam the bedroom door. I stand my ground as best as I can, trying not to be shoved out of the way. "What's wrong with you? Why do you wanna run away? Tell me! Something! Anything! Just a fucking clue so I can try to--"

Then, as if it were held up right in front of my face, it suddenly occurs to me what might have happened. "It was your father, wasn't it?"

Vincent stills at my accusation. I stare at him, waiting for an answer, silently praying that I'm wrong. But I know I'm not. "Is that what happened?" But instead of a verbal response, I get a fist to the face.

"Stay out of matters that don't concern you," he says sternly, able to push me out of the way and escape through the door.

Oh, fuck no. He is _not_ getting away so easily. I adjust my priorities as fast as I can, shoving my throbbing cheek bone to the back of my mind and the need to catch Vincent to the front.

I snag him right before he reaches the stairs, grabbing a handful of sweatshirt and halting him in his tracks. "Like hell this doesn't concern me." I pull him towards me so I can wrap my arms around him, pin his arms to his sides, and hold him relatively still. All our struggling brings us down to our knees, then over in some disorderly heap on the floor.

"Don't! Please!" he begs. "Don't hold me down like that! Lemme go, let me go!"

"Like_ hell_ this doesn't concern _me_!" I shout again, ignoring his plea to be released. "You selfish bastard, it concerns me as much as it does you."

"Let go, let go, let go!" He keeps on, terror sounding in his voice, disregarding what I'm saying, and working to get free. But I can't let him leave. I fight to hold him down until he gives up and finally goes limp, begging unabashedly. A vulnerable mess.

"Please, Vincent," I ask nicely. "Come back to my room with me. Please talk to me." I lead him slowly back to bed.

"It was my father," he whispers. "You were right, Cid. I didn't want you to know." He looks absolutely sick as he tells me this, in soft, hushed tones, as if someone else might hear. "He took me to his apartment." His whole body's shaking. "I couldn't run, I just couldn't." He places a trembling hand over his mouth as he tries to hold back his tears. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't run..."

"Oh, God. Vincent, did he hurt you?" I think I've forgotten how to breathe. It feels like hours go by before he finally nods. Hearing the truth makes my stomach turn. The world seems as if it's about to come crashing down on us. "Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Vince, no..." I run my hand nervously through my hair as I try quick to come up with something to help, but there's absolutely nothing I can think of. I know there's no use choking back my tears.

What am I supposed to do? He's been damaged again. I have a terrible fear of this damage being irreparable. Is he going to be okay? How can anything ever be okay again? Can I touch him, or would that break him? I _want_ to touch him. I'm supposed to be the one protecting him. I need to be able to put him back together, and keep him from ever hurting again.

"Have you told anyone?"

Vincent shakes his head no. No, of course not. "He said he'd hurt you or Reno or my family if I told." He gently rests his head against my chest and let's me hug him.

"It's gonna be alright, Vince," I tell him, though I'm not sure I can believe my own promises. "You're gonna be fine..."

----

After much persuasion, I finally talked Vincent into telling Mrs. Tuesti what had happened. He agreed to do it if I promised to stay with him.

Now she's holding him protectively, trying to keep from crying. "No, not my baby. Not my little boy..."

"I'm sorry, Mummy, I should've run from him," he says, soft and regretful, completely worn out. As far as I know, this is the first time he's acknowledged her as mother.

"Don't ever apologize for this. _Ever_." She grasps at his back, a desperate attempt to hold him somehow closer. "This is not your fault. Do you understand?"

Vincent nods. He'd damn well better understand.

How will things _ever_ be even close to normal again? How the hell do you keep on after something so... awful? Something so terribly unfair to absolutely everyone involved? It feels like the end of the world. I think I know that feeling now, and it's terrible. There is no possible way life can go on, but somehow it _has_ to, even though I can't begin to imagine how the hell that's going to happen.

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_EPIC BONUS STORY!_

_Vinny leaps into a glacier, then slides down. Into waters well below freezing._

_Chilly seconds pass and the scene changes to one filled with black and blue, and bright, shiny stars all around him. Things seem peaceful here until a strange voice shouts "JUMP INTO THIS, FOR CHRISTSAKES!" Vincent barely has time to heed the warning as Mars is projected toward him at an incredible speed._

_This, of course, turns out to be a hallucination, but Vincent never realizes it because he's slipping into a cold-induced coma._

_/EPIC BONUS STORY!_

_**Takemi-Chan****-** I hope things work out too! (lol at "Vinnyman" XD ) But at this point, I really don't know what's going to happen next. I don't know this because I am a very organized and well-planned writer who totally thinks through the plot before writing. Uh-huh. Right. But thanks for sticking around anyway!  
Good luck at thinking of something ELSE to pelt at Vincent! hehehe_

_**Jess****-** My first Anon: 3  
I'm sorry for making you cry, but I'm glad you're not a sex addict. That's probably a good thing to be thankful for. Hopefully things are going better for you now than they are for Vincent. : )  
Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I hope I'm able to keep ya entertained with later updates!_

_**Linnsche -** I sent a reply to one of your comments a few minutes ago, so I hope ya get it.  
And yeah... I know it usually takes a while to update... I'm sorry : 3 But it makes me soooo happy that you still wanna keep on reading. Thanks for sticking around too : D_

_I'm so damn lazy, but I totally wanna illustrate this whole mess. And if it ever happens, it will totally include a visual to go with the epic bonus story._

_Brb, Law&OrderAllDayMarathon._

_TBC, yo!_


	19. Chapter 19

Couldn't think of much more to add to this, but that's okay : )

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Reno)

"Would you like peppermint or jasmine? Or I can even fix up some iced if you'd prefer, Sir Renio."

"Gimme a hit a'that jasmine, please, Lady Elena-Isolde."

"Would you care for a bit of honey, Sir Renio?"

"Oh hell yeah, yo. Uh, Lady Elena-Isolde, please."

At this point, Cid steps into the room and says "Hey," and Vincent cautiously peeks around the door.

"I am in the middle of a _fucking _tea party, what the _fuck_ do you want?"

Cid almost has to drag Vince in.

"What's the matter with you, yo? Y'look like death warmed over," I sneer at Vincent, wishing he'd just walk right back out the door.

"I'm sorry..." he drops to his knees beside me, like he's begging for forgiveness.

"Why? Didja start to miss me or somethin'?"

"Ree, I..." The unemotional pretense he's gotten so good at constructing is losing its strength. He lowers his eyes, heavy-rimmed with dark circles.

"Vincent! You seriously pissed me off!"

"I know..." Vincent starts, but chokes on his own words. He squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head.

"You just toss me an' Cid out like we're fucken expendable, and, and, fuck, man! Fucking, not cool!"

"I know..." He tries again, not getting any further with the sentence. His teeth clench tight, and I see his jaw shifting as he grinds down on them. "I _know_!" he growls angrily.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shout back, demanding an answer.

"Don't, Reno," Cid warns and glares with a seriousness I don't think I've ever seen in him before.

Vincent takes a deep shuddering breath. Before I can yell anymore, he quickly says, "My dad found me. I wanted to protect you from him and I didn't know what else to do. Reno, I'm sorry..."

The admission was certainly not one I wanted to hear, but it wasn't very surprising to me. I look to Cid. I want confirmation. To know he's just making shit up, and it's just some rotten joke. But yeah, Vincent is telling the truth. The unjustified fucking truth. And he'd pushed me away when he needed someone the most. Unbelievable, stupid bastard.

I kneel on the floor so I don't feel like he's groveling anymore.

"Hey," I hold my hand out for Vincent to take. He lays his palm against mine. "I... I'm sorry. You had a good reason act so messed up. I need to apologize. Not you. I don't care, yo, about whatchyou said the other day. It doesn't matter. You got that? I'm still gonna be here for ya, buddy. S'that clear?"

"Clear, Reno," he agrees. He gives my hand a weak squeeze, but that's a good enough gesture as any.

"I know what it's like. Parents can do such horrible things to their children," Elena speaks solemnly. "Sometimes it gets to where you can't keep all your emotions and sanity straight. Does that happen sometimes?

Vincent looks up at her and nods. Satisfied with the response, Elena continues.

"You can hide and you can cry and be scared and mad. That's okay cos you can't pretend your feelings aren't there and you need to let them out. That's part of getting better. Try not to be ashamed about what you need to do to get better, okay?"

For the next few seconds, they share what seems to be a look of understanding, like they're mentally connected through their two separate experiences.

"Don't give up on yourself," Elena asserts quietly, knowingly. Vincent breaks the stare and lowers his head again.

"No more crying," I mildly insist. I reach over to wipe away a stray tear, but Vincent turns his head further away from me. Shit, I'm such a jack ass. I shouldn't have snapped at him like I did. "Are you... gonna be okay?"

Vincent nervously tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, his gaze locked back on the hardwood floor. "I don't know..."

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_Pretty short, but with a nice, kind of sad ending._

_I had a dream once in which Reno was playing with Legos, and I went to sit with him and kept saying "Well hello, Renio. What's up, Renio? How are you DOing Renio?" Lawl. I liked it._

_Comments will be responded to in the next update, which I THINK will be soon._

_TBC, yo!_


	20. Chapter 20

Hoo boy... Getting a bit plotless/pointless. Here we go.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Vincent)

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" my mum asks as she stands in front of her bathroom mirror, hooking a little silver chain around her neck.

"Fine," I answer. I always say I'm fine, even though it's always a lie.

My mum leaves the bathroom and enters her main bedroom, straightening her blouse and smoothing her skirt. I take my eyes off the tv to see what she's put on for the evening and tell her, "You look pretty." I've been puppy dogging her a lot recently, just wanting to be close to her.

My mum smiles modestly and sits next to where I'm laying on her bed. "You're sure you don't mind if your dad and I go out tonight?"

"I don't mind. Reeve'll be here, right?"

"Of course," she puts one earring in, then the other, "I just worry about you feeling lonely."

"I'm not. I'll be fine." I turn my attentions back to the tv. No pity right now, please?

It was bad enough having to admit to a jury of strangers for the second time that my own father kidnapped and molested me. And all the while, he glared hateful daggers, letting me know that his revenge was not over for me. Just his cold stare told me that if he ever saw me again, that I would be mutilated beyond recognition and thrown into the fireplace so there wouldn't be any trace of me left for anyone to find.

Threats like that weren't new, but that didn't make them any less scarier.

It wasn't _my_ idea to inform the authorities. I never wanted anyone to find out at all. But nobody seems to want to listen to my reasoning. And stupid me, can't keep my mouth shut.

It was bad enough watching my C average grades slide even further down. I hated not giving a fuck, but it was impossible to. Care for academics fell far on my list of important things. I very narrowly avoided summer school.

It's bad enough being sent into therapy sessions when I have no desire whatsoever to talk things out. I've barely spoken a word to anyone at all in weeks. I know I'm falling back into bad habits, but I don't have the will to stop them.

It's bad enough that nothing's going to plan. Summer's supposed to be stress free and fun. Now that I actually have friends to play with and a family to love me, I can get so anti-social.

When I'm sitting by myself, I want someone to be with. When I'm with someone, I want to be alone.

I thought a life like this would make me happy. Instead, I'm feeling undeserving, miserable, longing to feel good, but only feeling grime and rust growing inside.

And now, everybody's been feeling sorry for me. I hate all this attention. I wish they'd leave me alone to suffer in peace. My family keeps buying me things in hopes of raising my spirits - clothes, games, snacks, an ample stash of peanut butter to keep in my room - but I think the only thing that would actually make me happy is if someone were to take a baseball bat to the back of my head. Having my brain smashed out sounds so nice right now.

Might hurt for a second, but I bet if it hit with just enough force, in just the right area--

"Hey, Vince, you got a minute?" My dad - the new one, the good dad - calls from downstairs.

Don't have shit to do. So I peel my face off the comforter and sit up. My head feels heavy and I'm rather groggy from laying in bed and doing absolutely nothing for the past several days. As I'm lumbering down the stairs, I think about how funny it is that so much rest can make you so damned tired.

"Come look, Vince. I thought it was perfect!" My dad ushers me into the kitchen, where a long black box is sitting on the table. "The threw the case in for half off. I figured you could put something over that if you wanted," he indicates the torn and dog eared Metallica sticker the case came with. "Go ahead and open it up."

"Now I didn't want to get something too expensive to start out with, so I know it's not the best looking thing in the world," he tells me as I flip the latches, "Not much more than a hundred dollars, but it'll still do everything you need it to do."

Inside the case is a well-worn, slightly scratched and beaten white guitar, with silver hardware and black detailing.

"It's a Gibson Les Paul Studio," he explains. "I wanted a guitar so bad when I was your age and I never got a chance to get my hands on one. You may end up not liking it but I thought maybe you could at least try it out. Do you like it?"

I feel a grin coming on as I run my fingers across the smooth white body, feeling it literally go a little rough around the edges where it was probably handled with not enough care. "Yes." It's the first thing in a long time that's actually made me smile. The first thing that isn't fear to get my heart beating a little faster.

"There's an amplifier and a bag of other essentials by the front door," he says. "I wish I could help you figure things out, but I've gotta get ready to go to dinner. Have fun, okay?"

"'kay," I agree. "Thanks a lot."

My dad roughs up my hair as if to say "you're welcome" and heads out of the kitchen.

I take my new toys down to the basement and start to play with them. The tuner is fairly simple to figure out. The strings have been worn down, I discover, as I tighten one and plunk it and - "Ow my face!" - it snaps. So I have to learn how to restring the damn thing.

With that taken care of, I open my guitar playing handbook and let at least forty five minutes go by before I realize I've been reading the tabs from down to up, instead of up to down.

By the time my parents get home, I've learned the A, C, D, G, and E chords. By the time the sun shining through the windows, I can play the C major scale forwards and backwards quickly and without looking at my finger placement. By the time I notice that the sun has come up, I realize I'm rather tired.

My wrist hurts a bit from moving it out of the same position it's been in for about twelve hours now. Twelve hours focusing on something other than my self-loathing and misery.

I almost leave the guitar in the basement, but I've already become so emotionally attached to it. I lean it against the foot of my bed before I lay down, just in case I need to run through the C scale a few more times.

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_THROWING THE UNIVERSE AT VINCENT CREATES A TIME PARADOX AND okay, I really don't know where to go with this one : P_

_http://i8  
.  
photobucket  
.com  
/albums/a12/RiffRaff8/LPSTCWCH-5716de5c4a45d7acb4eb305c2b.jpg_

_100 dollars. Hah. Right. More like 1,200 dollars. Pfft.  
But Vinny had to have something secksy. And fuck if that axe isn't secksy.  
(This site is being a fucking douche bag about letting me put a damn web address in my own document. Won't even let me type ff (dot) net. Just piece that photobucket link together and copy paste it into the damn browser.)  
_

_**KasurinHima - **Hi! Thanks for tolerating the nasty parts! hehehe I really like trying to write gory details, so it's good to know it's been at least kind of creepy : P Thanks very much for reading : )_

_**Takemi-Chan - **I'm so jealous of you! I've never had any friends to share yaoi with. (But I guess that's probably cos I went to Catholic grade school & high school haha) I wish I woulda had a cool kid like you around to hang out with : D Tell your friend I luvs her 3_

_**Linnsche - **Gah! Sorry about the screwy MSN thing : 3 My sn is ShinRaTurk88 (at) hot mail . com (Except without all the spaces. Cos this site is being a douche bag about me typing out my damn screen name too) I don't get online too much, but you can message me whenever ya want if ya see me. I hope to talk to you soon; it'll be fun: D_

_I'm, uh, officially out of ideas, you guys.  
Seriously. I'll be thinking as hard as I can, but... it might be a while till the next update D :_

_Hopefully TBC, yo!_


	21. Chapter 21

Bad mood, bad mood. Felt like freaking out Yuffie & Cid and beating up poor Vince a little.

The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

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(Cid)

I finally talked Vincent away from his guitar for a few minutes so he could hang out with me. So now that I've got him all to myself, I get to sit in his back yard with him and watch as he cuts off the heads of strike anywhere matches and puts them in a little tin container. Now that's the kind of fun I _so_ wanted to have on this lovely summer afternoon.

Vincent half sings half hums to himself, focusing on nothing else but the task at hand. "Little ghost, little ghost, hmm hmm hm hm hmm hmmm..." And I sigh, poking the grass with a stick, bored but somewhat content.

I suppose sitting around doing nothing with someone else isn't quite as boring as sitting around doing nothing by yourself.

"Oh, Cid! You're here too!" Ugh. Yuffie. She lets herself through the back yard gate. "Hiya Vincey," she says too sweetly, her voice lilting in a teasing manner.

I think we're both expecting Vincent to start yelling, but he doesn't even look up. Just frowns and snips off another match head.

"Everybody else was busy so I thought I'd stop by and see what you were up to," Yuffie saunters over to Vincent.

"So we're your last choice back up plan? Gee, thanks a bunch..." I flick my stick at her, sending little pieces of dirt flying, but none actually go far enough to hit her. "Damn..."

"I've missed you, Vince," Yuffie grins. "Did you miss me?"

Something seems like it snaps in Vincent's mind. His hand flies toward Yuffie and makes sharp contact with her cheek. Yuffie retaliates and jams her fist against Vincent's mouth.

This isn't really worrying me yet. Yuffie's been working on becoming some kind of self-proclaimed ninja for a few years now, and I know from experience that Vincent can well hold his own in a bit of a spat and scrap. I figure I'll just sit this one out and watch the show. I've got a stick if I need to beat them off of me or each other.

"Do that again." Vincent stands up unsteadily and faces Yuffie. "Hit me before I hit you."

Yuffie steps back but gets into a fighting stance. "I don't want to."

"Come on. Are you afraid? Do it again."

"What's the matter with you?"

"Do it again!" He yells, taking an intimidating step forward.

Yuffie punches him again, harder this time. He stumbles backward, hands quickly covering his mouth. "Mmph... Shit, you little whore..." he groans. That obviously hurt, but he recovers quickly. He grabs Yuffie's shirt collar, pulling her close and spitting blood on her face.

A good deal of struggling goes on. Yuffie puts up a damn good fight before Vincent works her to her knees, mounting her calves to keep her in place while he wrests her hands behind her back.

"Still want to know what's the matter with me? I think you'd understand it better if I showed you instead. When I'm done with showing you, you'll have lost faith in everything and everyone you once thought you could believe in. You'll be stripped down to your very last thin threads of sanity."

Vincent grabs the scissors he's been using and rests the point against Yuffie's throat. She stops struggling then. "And you'll know you're just trash then. Just trash, pretty girl." He says calmly as if he's trying to soothe and console her.

"Okay now. I think she gets it," I suggest, though it goes unnoticed.

"Maybe I'll cut off your eyelids so you can watch me rape you with a butcher knife. That's what it feels like, it always feels like that..."

I begin to prepare myself for beating Vincent with the stick. It's something I'm sure he's not gonna appreciate one bit, but in the long run, it'll be better than going to jail for murder.

"And when all that's said and done, how about I kill you and fuck your ragdoll corpse, hm?"

The way he just spoke those words, like pure whispered insanity, was frightening.

"Vincent. Let her go," I try to make the words stern and demanding, but they come out weakly.

"Why should I? She wants to understand what I'm feeling. I'm willing to give it to her."

"She was just asking. She's probably worried about you just like everyone else is." Somehow I find the right voice, the one he listens to, and the one I hate using because it makes me feel like I'm controlling a pet. "I said that's enough, Vincent!"

Vincent's arms fall to his sides as he raises up so Yuffie can scramble out from under him. She sits a good distance away and wipes the bloody spit from her nose and cheek. "I think," she says after several minutes of silence, "I'm gonna head home now."

What the fuck am I gonna to do now? Fuck.

"I'd really like to go home too, but Jesus, I don't fucken know if you should be left alone right now."

"Go on. It's fine." Vincent shrugs and goes back to cutting off match heads. "Not sorry..."

"Course you're not," I roll my eyes at him. I'm still keeping a wary distance between us, but I really wanna know, "What the _fuck_, man?"

"It'd be really nice to have someone who understands things like I do. Like how the shadows are full of monsters waiting and ready to attack and murder me a little bit more every day. How they beat and bend and break me till I feel nothing but pain inside and out." He states all this so matter-of-factly then swipes his bleeding mouth against his sleeve.

"Someone else who feels the kind of hate I do and who knows what it's like to be worth far less than absolutely nothing and whose only purpose is that of a cheap toy. Someone who's just as worthless and disgusting as I am. Someone else who's been taken and used and left to shiver alone in the dark with all those hungry monsters hunting for little flesh like mine. The kind that deserves to be torn and eaten."

He abandons the scissors in favour of digging his nails into his palms and stares off. "Someone else who understands that no matter what, things will never be okay. I hate being the only one who feels like this. Nobody _understands_ and, God, it makes me want to break something, just utterly pulverize it. I need somebody to understand, Cid, and she asked. She wanted to know and, _fuck_! I am _not_ sorry."

Still at a loss for any helpful words, I watch Vincent stalk up to the side of the house and growl out an exasperated cry as he punches the wall till at least one bone cracks and his knuckles bleed.

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_**Nate (LoveMayKill) - **Hey there! Thanks a bunch for reading. I'm happy you're enjoying it! And here it is again, nearly 4 am hehehe_

_**Takemi-Chan - **Dood. You acted out one of my scenes? That is the awesomest thing ever. Seriously, that makes me so excited haha I feel so honoured : D  
Oh Catholic school...I'll keep my fingers crossed that you don't ever get in too much trouble for smuggling yaoi._

_**Linnsche - **Aw man, just save up for a guitar and buy it with your own money. That's what I had to do. It may take a while, but your dad couldn't say no to that. I hope : 3  
lol I was actually considering doing the band thing, although I see Reno as more of a drums sorta guy hehe I'm not too sure of where exactly that would take the story, but I haven't completely discarded the idea : )_

_ Still thinking a lot about what to do. Still having problems. I've got part of a chapter that's supposed to happen a couple years in the future. Uh...that's about it though. But we'll see what happens!_

_TBC, yo!_


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